mm 


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THE  WORLD'S 
GREAT  SNARE 


EPHI1.LIPS 
OPPEHHEIM 


&2T* 


UNIVERSITY     I 
r>      0F    ,xfe/ 


THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 


THE  NOVELS  OF 

E.   PHILLIPS 

OPPENHEIM 

The  Illustrious  Prince 

Jeanne  of  the  Marshes 

A  Prince  of  Sinners 

A  Sleeping  Memory 

Anna  the  Adventuress 

The  Malefactor 

The  Master  Mummer 

A  Lost  Leader 

A  Maker  of  History 

The  Great  Secret 

Mysterious  Mr.  Sarin 

The  Avenger 

The  Yellow  Crayon 

As  a  Man  Live? 

The  Betrayal                     The  Long  Arm  of  Mannister 

The  Traitors 

The  Missioner 

Enoch  Strone 

The  Governors 

The  Man  and 

His  Kingdom 

A  Millionaire 

of  Yesterday 

THE 

WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 


BY 

E.  PHILLIPS  OPPENHEIM 

AUTHOR    OF 

;A   MILLIONAIRE  OF   YESTERDAY,"    "  A   MAKER   OF  HISTORY," 

"THE  GREAT  SECRET,"    "THE  AVENGER,"    ETC. 


New  Edition 


illustrate* 


BOSTON 
LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 


"  He  strode  down  the  gorge  to  the  river  bed." 


The  World's  Great  Snare] 


[Frontispiece 


i 


CONTENTS 

BOOK  I 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    Two  Slept,  and  One  Watched 1 

II.     On  the  Banks  of  the  Blue  River 14 

III.  A  Western  Love 24 

IV.  The  Laugh  of  Mr.  James  Hamilton        ....  32 
V.    A  Hateful  Figure  from  a  Hateful  Past     ...  39 

VI.    The  Desire  of  the  World 45 

VII.    A  Young  Man  from  the  East 52 

VIII.    A  Corner  of  the  Curtain 60 

IX.    A  New  Partnership 66 

X.    A  Debauch  and  a  Tragedy        ..'....  75 

XL    The  Golden  Egg 82 

XII.    The  Villainy  of  Mr.  Christopher  Skein      ...  91 

XIII.  A  Jury  of  Seven  .               99 

XIV.  The  Touch  of  Fire 106 

XV.    A  Rough  Wooing 115 

XVI.     Eastwards 125 

XVII.    The  Night  Cry 129 

XVIII.    The  Passion  in  the  Desert 137 

XIX.    A  Prince  of  the  West 148 

XX.    Man  the  Brute  and  Woman  the  Angel        .        .        .  158 

XXL    The  Offering  of  a  Soul 164 

BOOK  II 

I.    In  the  Old  World 172 

II.    The  Judgment  of  Fortune 179 

III.     The  Threshold  of  a  New  Life 185 

IV.    The  Shadow  of  a  Memory 189 

v 


M643<^9 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER 

V.  A  Meeting  on  the  Moor 

VI.  Like  Poison  Lingering  in  the  Brain 

VII.  The  Earl  of  Wessemer 

VIII.  The  Tottering  of  the  Barrier  . 

IX.  "  Who  Are  You?  »  . 

X.  Like   Baffled   Breakers  against  an 

XL  On  the  Other  Side  of  the  Gulf 

XII.  The  Sunlight  of  Hope  . 

XIII.  The  Bitter  Waters  Made  Sweet 

XIV.  Bryan  the  Philosopher 
XV.  A  Silent  Toast         .... 

XVI.  A  Soul  Flitting  into  the  Sunlight 

BOOK  III 

I.  The  "  Hilarity  "  Star 281 

II.  A  Sorrow's  Crown  of  Sorrow 288 

III.  The  East  and  the  West 298 

IV.  Dead  Sea  Fruit 308 

V.  The  Problem  of  Two  Lives 316 

VI.  Lord  Wessemer's  Advice 325 

VII.  The  Judgment  of  the  East 331 

VIII.  The  Saviour  of  a  Soul 338 

IX.  A  Broken  Dream 347 

X.  In  the  Greater  World 351 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


"  He  strode  down  the  gorge  to  the  river  bed  "     Frontispiece 

"  The   last  shot  from   the    Englishman's  revolver 

had  found  its  way  into  his  heart     .         .         .     Page  145 

"  '  I  want  just  one  little  word  of  hope  ! '  "         .         .         "251 

"  « Are  you—  quite  sure,  Bryan  ? '  she  whispered  "  "     349 


THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

BOOK  I 

CHAPTER  I 

TWO  SLEPT,   AND   ONE   WATCHED 

"  At  last! "  muttered  Mr.  James  Hamilton,  opening  his 
eyes  and  sitting  upright  on  the  floor.  "  Get  up,  you  chaps! 
D'ye  hear?    Get  up!" 

No  one  stirred.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  neither  of  the  other 
two  men  was  awake.  With  a  final  yawn  the  speaker 
stretched  himself  out  and  staggered  to  his  feet.  Then  he 
threw  himself  upon  a  rude  wooden  bench,  picked  up  the 
stump  of  a  corn-cob  pipe  which  lay  upon  the  ground,  and 
smoked,  with  his  elbows  resting  upon  the  empty  window- 
frame,  and  his  head  stretched  as  far  as  possible  outside. 
The  dull  stolidity  of  his  features  was  quickened  for  the 
moment  into  the  semblance  of  eagerness.  He  was  waiting 
to  inhale  the  faint  quivering  breeze  which  was  stealing 
down  from  the  hills. 

"  At  last!  "  he  growled,  with  his  eyes,  dim  and  bloodshot, 
turned  towards  the  western  sky.  "  What  a  hell  of  a  day! 
There  she  goes,  and  be  d d  to  her!  " 

The  rim  of  a  red,  burning  sun  had  touched  at  last  the 
highest  peak  of  a  low  range  of  pine-topped  hills  crawling 
around  the  base  of  the  Sierras.    All  day  long,  the  heat  in 

l 


2      THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

the  valley  and  across  that  level  stretch  of  rocky,  broken 
country  lying  eastwards,  had  scorched  the  earth,  dried  up 
the  watercourses,  and  very  nearly  turned  the  brains  of  those 
few  dwellers  around  the  banks  of  the  Blue  River.  Work 
had  been  given  up  as  a  thing  impossible.  Down  below 
where,  around  the  bed  of  the  old  river,  a  score  or  so  of  gold 
claims  had  been  staked  out  by  a  little  band  of  eager  workers, 
reigned  a  deep,  absolute  stillness.  Pickaxes,  washers,  pans, 
and  all  sorts  of  mining  tools  were  lying  about  unused.  Not 
a  man  had  dared  to  breathe  the  burning  heat  and  stifling 
air  of  the  valley.  Apart,  they  might  have  been  borne  for 
a  brief  while,  at  any  rate;  together,  they  meant  fever, 
deadly  and  virulent. 

After  a  while,  Mr.  James  Hamilton  withdrew  his  head 
from  the  window-frame,  and  cast  a  grim  look  into  the  in- 
terior of  the  shanty.  Save  for  its  occupants,  it  did  not  afford 
much  scope  for  investigation,  nor  was  there  anything  in  its 
appointments  which  could  have  offended  the  instincts  of  the 
most  rigid  ascetic.  On  a  table  constructed  of  a  couple  of 
broad  planks  from  which  the  underneath  bark  had  not  been 
stripped,  supported  upon  a  barrel  at  either  end,  were 
scattered  a  dirty  pack  of  cards,  two  tin  mugs  turned  upside 
down,  and  a  black  bottle  rolling  on  its  side.  The  walls  were 
perfectly  bare,  and  a  strong  woody  odour,  and  the  trickiings 
of  pine  sap  upon  the  rafters,  showed  that  the  shanty  had 
only  recently  been  put  together.  The  whole  of  the  floor 
seemed  to  be  taken  up  by  the  two  men  who  lay  there  fast 
asleep. 

It  was  upon  the  face  of  the  one  nearest  to  him  that  Mr. 
James  Hamilton's  attention  seemed  fixed.  With  his  hands 
on  his  knees,  and  his  pipe  between  his  teeth,  he  leaned 
forward,  watching  him  with  a  steady,  expressionless  scru- 
tiny. If  the  sleeping  man  had  suddenly  awakened,  there 
was  nothing  in  the  look  to  terrify  or  even  surprise  him.    It 


TWO   SLEPT,   AND   ONE   WATCHED  3 

was  simply  the  steady,  critical  survey  of  a  man  who  desires 
to  impress  certain  features  and  lineaments  in  his  memory, 
or  compare  them  with  some  previous  association. 

They  were  all  three  big  men,  with  brawny  limbs  and 
muscles  hardened  and  distended  by  physical  labour,  but 
the  man  who  slept  so  soundly  was  almost  a  giant.  His  head, 
massive  and  tawny-bearded,  was  propped  up  against  the 
opposite  wall.  One  huge  arm,  naked  to  the  shoulder,  was 
passed  underneath  it,  and  the  other,  stretched  out  perfectly 
straight,  reached  the  doorway.  One  of  his  feet,  bare  and 
brown,  rested  upon  an  overturned  bucket;  the  leg,  ex- 
tended at  full  length,  seemed  in  the  tiny  cabin  like  the  limb 
of  a  giant.  A  red  flannel  shirt,  unbuttoned  at  the  throat, 
revealed  a  mighty  chest,  curiously  white.  His  trousers,  of 
coarse  linen,  were  rolled  up  to  the  knees,  and  although 
stained  and  discoloured,  showed  traces  of  constant  efforts 
at  cleaning. 

Mr.  James  Hamilton,  whose  eyes  had  been  noting  this 
amongst  many  other  things,  suffered  for  the  first  time  a 
shade  to  pass  across  his  face.  He  gave  vent  to  his  feelings 
in  an  expressive  grunt,  and  spat  upon  the  floor. 

After  that  first  futile  summons,  he  seemed  in  no  hurry 
to  awaken  his  comrades.  Withdrawing  his  eyes  at  last  from 
the  man  who  lay  stretched  at  his  feet,  he  carefully  stepped 
over  his  body,  and  lounged  to  the  doorway.  The  frail 
structure  creaked  with  his  weight  as  he  leaned  against  the 
side,  for  Mr.  James  Hamilton  himself  was  a  fourteen-stone 
man,  but  he  made  himself  comfortable  there  and  folded 
his  arms,  smoking  steadily,  and  watching  the  dull  red  ball 
of  sun  sink  behind  the  hills.  Unconsciously  he  contributed 
one  more,  and  a  necessary  figure,  to  the  dramatic  complete- 
ness of  the  scene. 

Down  from  the  hills  stole  the  softly-descending  darkness. 
There  was  none  of  the  lingering  twilight  of  an  English 


4      THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

summer.  Swift  shadows  moved  ghostlike  across  their  bare 
brown  sides,  and  hung  about  the  valley,  and  the  colour  stole 
into  a  white  moon  hung  in  a  deep  blue  sky.  A  breeze,  long 
desired  and  grateful,  swept  through  the  army  of  pines 
which  crowned  the  sheer  hill  behind  the  cabin,  hanging  on 
to  its  ledges  and  crevices,  and  growing  out  in  places  almost 
at  right  angles  to  the  precipice  below.  Mr.  James  Hamilton 
took  off  his  apology  for  a  hat,  and  pushed  his  hair  back  from 
his  head,  to  taste  as  much  of  its  sweetness  as  he  could.  He 
even  glanced  over  his  shoulder  into  the  cabin,  and  seemed 
to  contemplate  another  attempt  at  arousing  his  companions. 
But,  although  he  went  so  far  as  to  remove  his  pipe  from 
his  teeth,  he  did  not  at  once  speak  to  them. 

"  I  reckon  this  is  the  darnedest,  loneliest,  saddest  hole  I 
ever  came  across!  "  he  muttered  to  himself,  gazing  away 
from  the  valley  and  the  shadow-crowned  hills  to  where  a 
great  rolling  expanse  of  broken  country  surged  away  to  the 
eastern  horizon.  Mr.  Hamilton's  artistic  education  had 
been  neglected,  and  he  saw  no  beauty  in  the  fantastic 
panorama  of  shadowland,  the  lone  clumps  of  alder-trees 
and  bushes  the  very  leaves  of  which  seemed  like  elegant 
tracing  against  the  deep  clear  sky,  and  the  faint  blue  haze 
mingling  with  the  deeper  twilight.  His  regretful  thoughts 
at  that  moment  were  fixed  upon  a  certain  pine-board 
saloon  a  few  hundred  miles  beyond  that  uncertain  line 
where  the  rolling  plain  touched  the  sky,  and  the  music  of 
the  quivering  breeze  amongst  the  pines  fell  upon  dull,  un- 
appreciative  ears.  The  fact  undoubtedly  was,  that  Mr. 
James  Hamilton  was  sharing  a  similar  sensation  to  that 
which  a  goodly  proportion  of  his  fellow-creatures,  steeped 
to  the  finger-tips  in  Eastern  civilization,  encounter  every 
day.  He  was  bored!  The  absence  of  kindred  spirits,  the 
enforced  temperance  of  hard  work,  and,  as  he  expressed  it, 
the  cursed  loneliness  of  the  place,  were  becoming  insuffer- 


TWO   SLEPT,   AND   ONE   WATCHED  5 

able.  It  was  possible,  too,  that  he  was  a  little  homesick; 
for  Mr.  James  Hamilton  was  not  an  American,  and  had  not 
been  heard  to  express  any  unbounded  admiration  for  that 
country.  The  only  thing,  in  fact,  which  had  won  his  un- 
qualified approval  were  the  oaths,  which  he  had  mastered 
with  wonderful  facility,  and  by  means  of  which  he  was  able, 
as  he  remarked  with  constant  satisfaction,  to  express  him- 
self as  a  gentleman. 

Yet,  although  he  was  unaware  of  it,  the  loneliness  was 
not  quite  so  complete  as  he  had  imagined.  Away  across 
the  broken  plain,  the  figure  of  a  human  being  was  slowly 
limping  and  crawling  along  the  rough  track  towards  the 
valley;  a  human  being  in  the  direst  and  most  pitiful  of 
straits.  As  yet,  all  signs  of  the  little  settlement  and  the 
river  were  hidden  from  him.  He  was  in  a  vast  lonely  stretch 
of  barren  country,  with  the  great  hills  in  front,  and  no  sign 
of  human  life  or  habitation  to  break  the  deep  serene  silence. 
Every  now  and  then  a  moan  broke  from  the  white  parched 
lips,  a  low  despairing  moan  of  pain  and  deep  physical  ex- 
haustion, and  more  than  once  in  the  short  space  of  a  hun- 
dred yards,  he  threw  up  his  arms  and  sank  down  upon  the 
ground.  He  was  dressed  in  the  roughest  of  cowboy's  clothes 
stained  with  sun  and  water,  and  torn  almost  to  rags  by  the 
bushes  of  the  forests.  His  face  was  worn  to  a  shadow,  and 
black  rims  were  under  the  deep-set  eyes  bright  with  the 
gleam  of  famine.  The  feet  were  bare  and  stained  with 
blood,  and  the  hands  were  cut  and  bruised.  And  with  it 
all  he  seemed  to  have  the  look  of  one  utterly  unused  to  such 
privations.  The  shape  of  his  limbs  was  slender,  even  deli- 
cate, and  the  face,  notwithstanding  its  emaciation  and 
deadly  pallor,  was  curiously  handsome.  He  carried  no  gun 
or  stick,  but  a  small  bundle  from  which  the  butt-end  of  a 
revolver  was  sticking  out,  and  as  once  more  his  feet  gave 
way  beneath  him  and  he  sank  down,  his  fingers  closed  upon 
it  convulsively. 


6      THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

He  lay  upon  his  back,  and  looked  up  at  the  stars  which 
were  beginning  to  steal  into  the  sky.  For  a  moment  his 
mind  began  to  wander.  Trees  and  sky  and  space  seemed 
to  be  mingling  in  one  confused  chaos.  Then,  setting  his 
teeth  and  making  a  great  effort,  he  arrested  his  fleeting  con- 
sciousness.   He  raised  his  head  a  little  and  his  lips  moved. 

"  Oh,  God!  if  I  could  crawl  but  just  a  mile  —  just  a  mile 
or  two  further !  I  must  be  near  the  Blue  River  now !  Yonder 
are  the  mountains  —  that  must  be  the  valley !  Oh,  if  only 
I  had  the  strength!" 

He  raised  himself  a  little  more  and  looked  around  despair- 
ingly. The  deep,  majestic  stillness  of  the  great  pine-clad 
hills  and  brooding  forests,  the  solemn  silence  of  night  de- 
scending slowly  upon  the  land,  seemed  to  stir  up  a  sudden 
half-frenzied  anger  in  the  traveller.  Was  he  to  die  there 
in  agony,  almost  within  sight  of  his  goal?  To  die  before  the 
yellow  light  faded  from  that  great  moon,  and  the  slow- 
flushing  morn  paled  the  eastern  skies?  Even  in  his  growing 
weakness,  the  cruelty  of  it  and  the  deep,  solemn  indifference 
of  all  inanimate  things  in  the  face  of  his  misery,  came 
vividly  home  to  him.  With  a  curious  mixture  of  blasphemy 
and  devotion,  he  sat  up  and  faintly  cursed  the  distant 
moonlit  hills,  the  perfumed  breeze  which  fanned  his  burning 
forehead,  and  the  far-off  sound  of  a  mountain  torrent  which 
mocked  his  dry  throat  and  cracked  lips.  Then  he  pulled  out 
his  revolver. 

"  One  shot  more !  "  he  gasped.    "  Shall  I?  " 

He  looked  into  the  deep  barrel,  and  held  it  to  his  forehead, 
pressing  it  there  so  tightly  that  when  his  fingers  relaxed 
there  was  a  livid  red  mark  upon  his  temple.  Then  he  laid 
it  down  by  his  side,  and  sitting  up,  sobbed  out  loud. 

"  Oh,  God  help  me!  God  help  me!"  he  moaned.  "  I 
daren't  die !  I'm  afraid !  Oh,  for  just  a  little  more  strength, 
only  just  a  little!  I  must  be  nearly  there!  " 


TWO   SLEPT,   AND   ONE    WATCHED  7 

He  raised  himself  slowly  on  to  his  knees,  and  leaned 
forward  on  his  hands.  Behind  him  lay  the  great  desolate 
plain  melting  into  the  sky.  In  front  were  the  mountains, 
the  deep  gorge,  the  pine-topped  hills;  and,  at  their  base, 
though  he  could  not  see  it,  the  little  shanty  where  two  men 
slept  and  one  watched. 

"  I  must  be  near  there  now!  "  he  gasped.  "  Very  near! 
One  more  effort  now  —  one  more  —  and  if  I  fail  —  I  will 
doit!" 

He  replaced  the  revolver  in  the  little  bundle,  and  pushed 
back  the  thick  hair  from  his  forehead,  with  a  gesture  of 
determination.  Then  moving,  in  pain  and  slowly,  on  hands 
and  feet,  he  crept  on  with  his  face  towards  the  hills,  mutter- 
ing softly  to  himself: 

"  I  must  not  give  up !  I  will  —  be  brave !  I  will  not  faint! 
No!  I  will  not,  I  will  not!  How  brightly  the  moon  shines 
through  the  dark  trees,  and  what  strange  shadows  lie  across 
the  plain!  Down  there  must  be  the  valley.  Yes,  yes;  that 
is  where  they  are.  I  have  come  so  far  —  I  will  not  give  in! 
I  shall  find  him.  Yes,  I  shall  find  him!  The  ground  seems 
unsteady!  it  is  fancy,  fancy!  Just  beyond  those  trees  — 
that  is  where  they  will  be.  It  is  —  very  near.  The  breeze 
is  fragrant  with  the  perfume  of  the  pines.  It  is  —  only  a 
little  further.  I  shall  soon  be  there  —  very  soon.  Ah, 
what  is  that?  How  bright  it  is !  Oh,  God !  do  not  mock  me. 
It  is  a  firefly,  it  must  be  —  a  firefly !  I  will  not  believe  that 
it  is  a  light.  Oh,  my  head!  How  giddy  I  am!  I  must  not 
give  way.    I  will  not!  I  will  not!  It  is  —  ah!  " 

He  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  raised  his  hands  to  heaven. 
A  sudden  wild  joy  shook  him. 

"  It  is  a  light  —  a  match !  "  he  shrieked.     "  I  am  there !  " 

Mr.  Hamilton's  pipe  had  gone  out,  and  the  tobacco  was 
in  his  host's  possession.  He  turned  round  and  kicked  the 
body  of  the  man  nearest  to  him. 


8      THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

"  Hullo!  "  he  cried.  "  Are  you  chaps  turned  into  logs? 
Get  up!" 

The  man  more  directly  addressed  opened  his  eyes,  gave 
a  mighty  yawn,  and  staggered  to  his  feet.  Then  he  thrust 
his  head  out  of  the  door,  and  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  Whew!  This  is  good!  "  he  exclaimed,  opening  his  lungs 
and  breathing  in  great  gulps  of  the  fragrant  pine-scented 
breeze  which  was  blowing  softly  across  the  gorge  from  the 
forests  beyond.  "  Jim,  you  idiot,  why  didn't  you  wake  me 
before?  " 

"  Not  my  business !  "  Mr.  Hamilton  growled.  "  Shouldn't 
have  done  it  now,  only  I  wanted  a  smoke.  Hand  over  the 
baccy! " 

His  host  produced  a  huge  pouch  from  his  pocket,  filled 
his  own  pipe  and  handed  it  over.  Mr.  Hamilton,  still  loung- 
ing in  the  doorway,  leisurely  stuffed  his  corn-cob  as  full 
as  he  could,  struck  a  match,  and  thereby,  in  all  probability, 
saved  the  life  of  a  fellow-creature. 

Neither  of  the  men  heard  the  faint  despairing  cry  of  the 
stranger.  After  smoking  for  a  few  moments  in  silence,  they 
were  joined  by  the  third  occupant  of  the  shanty.  He  was 
a  tall,  lank  man,  with  grizzled  hair,  high  cheekbones,  and 
clear  gray  eyes.  After  his  first  uprising  he  stood  for  a  brief 
while  indulging  in  a  succession  of  yawns.  Then  he  felt  for 
his  pipe,  snapped  his  fingers  for  the  tobacco,  and,  leaning 
against  the  wall,  smoked  in  silence. 

"  Say,  pal,  how's  the  liquor?  "  grunted  Mr.  Hamilton 
insinuatingly,  a  sudden  gleam  of  interest  illuminating  his 
classical  features.    "  It's  a  cussed  dry  climate!  " 

His  host,  who  in  the  little  community  was  generally  called 
the  Englishman,  stretched  out  his  hand  and  drew  a  bottle 
from  a  wooden  box  set  on  end,  which  appeared  to  do  duty 
as  a  cupboard.  He  turned  it  upside  down,  and  contem- 
plated it  thoughtfully,  smoking  all  the  time. 


TWO   SLEPT,  AND   ONE   WATCHED  9 

"  Half  a  bottle,"  he  announced.  "  All  we've  got,  and  no 
supplies  for  a  week!  Guess  we'd  better  thirst!  " 

"  That  be  d d !  "  growled  Mr.  Hamilton.    "  This  place 

is  as  slow  as  hell,  anyhow.  Let's  share  up,  and  have  a  game 
of  poker.  Chance  to-morrow!  I  shall  cut  my  throat  if  I 
don't  have  a  drink!  " 

The  Englishman  balanced  the  bottle  thoughtfully  in  the 
palm  of  his  hand. 

"  What  do  you  say,  Pete?  "  he  asked,  turning  to  the 
other  man. 

The  gentleman  addressed,  Mr.  Peter  Morrison  by  name, 
scratched  his  head  and  glanced  furtively  at  the  sullen  brow 
and  red,  bloodshot  eyes  of  the  man  who  lounged  in  the  door- 
way.   The  sight  seemed  to  decide  him. 

"  I  say  let's  drink!  I  saw  Dan  Cooper  this  morning,  and 
he  allowed  there  was  plenty  of  stuff  left  in  the  store.  We 
shan't  have  a  much  drier  day  than  this,  anyhow." 

"  D d  poor  stuff  that  store  whisky,"  muttered  the 

Englishman.  "  Two  against  one  takes  it,  though.  Down 
you  sit,  you  chaps!  Share  up  the  liquor.  Here  goes!  Jim, 
deal  the  pictures! " 

The  men  sat  down  without  a  word.  In  silence  they 
drank  and  smoked,  dealt  and  shuffled,  lost  and  won.  Lo- 
quacity was  not  a  popular  quality  at  Blue  River  diggings, 
and  conversation  was  a  thing  almost  unheard-of.  Only, 
once  Mr.  Hamilton  brought  his  fist  down  upon  the  frail 
table,  and  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth. 

"  You  chaps,  I'm  off  next  week.    Gold-diggin's  a  frost. 

D d  if  I  can  stand  it  any  longer.    Say,  are  you  coming, 

Bryan?  " 

The  Englishman  shook  his  head. 

"  Going  to  hold  on  a  bit  longer,"  he  answered. 
"  Shouldn't  half  mind  it  if  it  wasn't  so  blazing  hot!  " 

"  How  about  you,  Pete?  "  Mr.  Hamilton  inquired,  turn- 
ing to  the  other  man. 


10  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

"  I'm  in  with  Bryan,"  was  the  quiet  reply.  "  We're 
pards,  you  know.    Ain't  that  so,  Bryan?  " 

"  Right  for  you,  my  man!"  was  the  hearty  answer. 
"  Two  pairs,  aces  up!  Show  your  hand,  Jim!  " 

Mr.  Hamilton  threw  down  his  cards  with  a  string  of  oaths 
which  even  surpassed  his  usual  brilliancy. 

"  You  fellows  can  stay  and  rot  here,"  he  muttered 
hoarsely.  "  Just  you  wait  till  the  rains  come,  and  see  how 
you  like  it." 

There  was  no  further  attempt  at  conversation.  Every 
now  and  then  Mr.  Hamilton  swore  a  deep  oath  as  the  cards 
went  against  him,  which  was  not  often.  The  Englishman 
and  his  partner  won  or  lost  without  a  murmur  —  the  former 
with  real  carelessness,  the  latter  with  a  studied  and  charac- 
teristic nonchalance.  Mr.  Hamilton  was  the  only  one  who 
showed  any  real  interest  in  the  game,  and  his  method  of 
playing,  which  was  a  little  peculiar,  required  all  his  atten- 
tion. 

Outside,  the  calm  of  evening  deepened  into  the  solemn 
stillness  of  night.  The  moon  rose  over  the  pine  tops,  and 
the  mists  floated  away  down  the  valley.  The  breeze 
dropped,  and  the  trees  in  the  forest  were  dumb.  The  three 
men  played  steadily  on  till  midnight.  Then  the  Englishman 
rose  up  and  threw  down  his  cards. 

"  Out  you  go,  you  chaps!  "  he  said  shortly.  "  I've  had 
enough  of  this,  and  I'm  going  to  turn  in." 

The  two  men  rose:  Mr.  Hamilton  grumbling,  Morrison 
as  silent  as  ever.  Together  they  all  walked  out  into  the 
darkness. 

"  Good  night,  and  be  d d  to  you! "  muttered  Mr. 

Hamilton  surlily  as  he  scrambled  down  the  hillside,  holding 
on  to  the  young  fir-trees,  and  every  now  and  then  balancing 
himself  with  difficulty.  "  What  the  devil  were  you  think- 
ing of  when  you  built  your  shanty  up  in  the  clouds?  "  he 


TWO   SLEPT,   AND   ONE   WATCHED  11 

shouted  back  as  at  last  he  reached  the  bottom.     "  I'm 
bruised  all  over.    I'll  be  shot  if  I  come  again." 

The  Englishman  laughed  out  lustily,  and  thrust  his  hands 
into  his  pockets. 

"  Good  night,  Jim!"  he  shouted,  his  deep  bass  voice 
awakening  strange  echoes  as  it  travelled  across  the  rocky 
gorge.  "  Don't  know  what  you  want  to  swear  at  me  for! 
You've  drunk  my  whisky,  and  smoked  my  tobacco,  and  won 
my  money,  you  surly  beggar,  you!  Good  night,  Pete!" 
he  added  to  his  partner  in  a  milder  tone.  "  Be  careful  how 
you  go,  there !  You've  had  as  much  liquor  as  you  can  carry, 
you  have,  you  idiot!  " 

He  walked  a  step  or  two  further  out,  and  watched  both 
men  gain  their  shanties.  Then  he  turned  round  and  stood 
for  a  moment  or  two  gazing  thoughtfully  out  into  the  dark- 
ness. A  sudden  impatience  had  prompted  him  to  get  rid  of 
his  rough  companions,  but  he  had  no  desire  to  sleep.  The 
still,  starlit  night,  the  faint  snowy  outline  of  the  distant 
mountains,  the  perfume  of  flowering  shrubs,  and  the  night 
odour  of  the  pines,  had  quickened  his  senses  and  stirred 
vaguely  his  inherent  love  of  beauty ;  so  that  he  was  forced 
to  rid  himself  abruptly  of  his  coarse  surroundings  and  hasten 
out  into  the  darkness.  He  leaned  against  the  frail  supports 
of  his  little  dwelling,  with  folded  arms,  and  dreamed  — 
dreamed  of  that  Eastern  world  which  he  had  left,  and  which 
seemed  a  thing  so  far  away  from  this  deep  majestic  solitude. 
He  turned  his  face  towards  the  plains,  and  half  closed  his 
eyes.  His  had  been  a  curious  and  a  solitary  life;  a  life 
oftenest  gloomy,  yet  just  once  or  twice  bathed  in  a  very 
bright  light.  It  was  something  to  think  about  —  these 
brighter  places  so  few  and  far  between.  Did  he  wish  that 
he  was  back  again  where  they  would  be  once  more  possible? 
He  scarcely  knew!  The  fierce  trouble  and  the  disquiet  of 
the  days  behind  was  no  pleasant  memory.     He  looked 


12  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

across,  to  the  mist-topped  hills  and  dark  forests,  and  he  felt 
that  they  had  grown  in  a  measure  dear  to  him.  In  his 
heart,  this  great  lonely  man  with  the  limbs  and  sinews  of  a 
giant  was  a  poet.  He  was  ignorant  of  books,  and  un- 
educated, but  he  loved  beauty,  and  he  loved  nature,  and 
in  his  way  he  loved  solitude.  He  was  happier  here  by  far 
than  he  had  been  amongst  the  gilded  saloons  and  cheap 
haunts  of  the  Western  cities.  It  was  only  the  monotony 
and  the  apparent  uselessness  of  his  life  here  that  oppressed 
him.  He  was  a  man  with  a  purpose,  a  purpose  which  he  had 
followed  over  land  and  sea,  through  cities  and  lonely  places, 
with  a  dogged  persistence  characteristic  of  the  man  and  of  his 
race.  In  his  expedition  here,  for  the  first  time  he  had  turned 
away  from  it,  and  the  knowledge  was  beginning  to  trouble 
him.  The  hard  physical  labour,  the  glory  of  his  surround- 
ings, the  mighty  forests  and  hills  broken  up  into  valley, 
and  precipice,  and  gorge,  and  all  the  time  overshadowed 
by  that  everlasting  background  of  the  snow-capped  Sierras, 
these  things  were  all  dear  to  him,  and  rough  and  uncultured 
though  he  was,  they  sank  deeper  into  his  being  day  by  day, 
and  night  by  night.  He  could  not  have  talked  about  them. 
Nature  had  given  him  the  sensibility  of  the  poet  and  the 
artist,  but  education  had  denied  him  the  use  of  words  with 
which  to  express  himself.  As  yet  he  scarcely  appreciated 
all  that  he  lost.    That  would  come  some  day. 

Suddenly  his  dreaming  was  brought  to  an  abrupt  termi- 
nation. His  body  stiffened,  and  his  hand  felt  for  the  re- 
volver in  his  belt.  With  the  ready  instinct  of  a  man  used 
to  all  sorts  of  emergencies,  he  recogni  ed  that  he  was  no 
longer  alone.  Yonder,  almost  at  his  feet,  behind  that  low 
prickly  shrub,  a  man  was  lying. 

"  Who  are  you?  "  he  asked  quickly.  "  What  do  you 
want  here?    Put  up  your  hands !  " 

The  reply  came  only  in  a  faint  whisper. 


TWO   SLEPT,   AND   ONE   WATCHED         13 

"Bryan!  Bryan,  come  and  help  me!  Give  me  some 
brandy!  I'm  almost  done!  Thank  God,  I've  found  you!  " 

The  Englishman  stuck  his  revolver  into  his  belt,  and 
took  a  giant  stride  over  to  the  spot. 

"  Who  are  you?  "  he  asked,  dropping  on  one  knee,  "  and 
where,  in  God's  name,  have  you  come  from?  How  do  you 
know  my  name?  " 

The  figure  raised  itself  a  little.  The  tattered  remnants  of 
a  cap  fell  off,  and  the  moonlight  fell  upon  the  wan  but 
strangely  handsome  face,  gleaming  in  the  dark  eyes  lit  up 
with  a  sudden  eager  light. 

"  Don't  you  know  me,  Bryan?  "  asked  a  soft,  caressing 
voice.    "  Am  I  so  altered?  " 

The  Englishman  gave  a  great  start,  and  his  bronzed  face 
grew  pale. 

"  My  God!  "  he  exclaimed.    "  It's  Myra!  " 


CHAPTER  II 

ON  THE  BANKS  OF  THE  BLUE  RIVER 

The  moon,  which  had  risen  now  high  above  the  wood- 
crowned  hills,  was  shining  with  a  faint  ghostly  light  upon 
the  new-comer's  wan  face.  The  Englishman,  who  had 
started  back  like  a  man  who  sees  a  vision,  as  suddenly 
recovered  himself.  Surprising  though  this  advent  was, 
there  was  no  doubt  as  to  the  identity  of  his  visitor.  Neither 
was  there  any  doubt  but  that  she  was  on  the  point  of  ex- 
haustion. His  first  duty  was  plain.  She  must  be  taken 
care  of. 

"  Can  you  walk  into  the  cabin,  or  shall  I  carry  you?  " 
he  asked,  in  a  tone  as  matter-of-fact  as  though  he  was 
accustomed  every  day  to  receive  such  visits.  "  Better 
carry  you,  I  think!  You  look  all  used  up!  " 

"I  —  I'm  afraid  I  can't  walk,  Bryan,"  she  admitted, 
looking  up  at  him  with  the  ghost  of  a  smile  on  her  lips. 
"  I  guess  I  fainted  a  bit  ago!  It  was  the  sound  of  your 
voice  brought  me  to!" 

Without  another  word  he  lifted  the  prostrate  figure  into 
his  arms,  and  carried  her  into  the  shanty.  Arrived  safely 
inside  —  he  had  to  bend  almost  double  to  enter  the  door- 
way —  he  laid  her  on  his  bed,  and  threw  a  blanket  over  her. 
Then  he  took  up  his  own  tin  mug  of  brandy,  found  that  it 
was  half  full,  and  forced  a  little  between  the  white  lips. 

14 


ON   THE   BANKS   OF   THE   BLUE   RIVER    15 

The  effect  was  swift  and  almost  magical.  A  little  faint 
colour  stole  into  her  cheeks,  and  she  opened  her  eyes. 

"  Guess  I'm  starved!  "  she  remarked,  with  a  slight  up- 
lifting of  the  eyelids.    "  Got  anything  to  eat?  " 

Her  eyes  wandered  round  the  place  hungrily.  The 
Englishman  stood  still  and  considered  for  a  moment.  Then 
he  struck  a  match  and  lit  an  oil  stove,  opened  a  tin  of  beef 
extract,  and  in  a  few  minutes  had  a  steaming  cup  full  of 
the  liquid.  He  brought  it  to  her  side,  and  she  clutched  it 
eagerly. 

"Drink  it  slowly!"  he  advised.  "That's  the  style! 
Good  God!" 

He  went  out  into  the  darkness,  and  returned  in  a  few 
minutes  with  a  pail  of  water.  Then  he  turned  up  his  shirt- 
sleeves, and  taking  her  shapely  little  feet  into  his  great 
hands,  bathed  them  carefully  while  she  lay  quite  still  with 
half  closed  eyes.  When  he  had  finished,  he  lit  his  pipe,  and 
sat  down  by  her  side. 

"  Don't  hurry,  Myra!  "  he  said,  leaning  back  against  the 
wall,  and  thrusting  his  hands  into  his  pockets.  "  Don't 
talk  at  all  unless  you  feel  like  it !  More  beef  tea,  eh?  There, 
just  a  drop!  That's  right!  " 

He  held  the  cup  to  her  lips,  and  then  set  it  down. 

"  If  you  feel  like  going  right  off  to  sleep,  why,  off  you 
go!  "  he  said.  "  You  can  tell  me  all  about  it  in  the  morn- 
ing!" 

He  spoke  cheerfully,  but  there  was  an  undercurrent  of 
anxiety  in  his  tone  which  the  girl's  quick  ears  detected. 
Henceforth  she  watched  him  furtively  out  of  her  big  dark 
eyes,  filled  now  with  a  fresh  alarm. 

"  I'd  as  lief  tell  you  now!  "  she  said.    "  I'm  rested!  " 

"  That's  capital!  Well,  how  did  you  get  here  all  by  your- 
self?   That's  what  I  want  to  know." 

A  little  note  of  triumph  crept  into  the  girl's  tone.    She 


16     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

watched  her  companion  carefully  to  see  what  effect  her 
words  had  upon  him. 

"  I  came  on  a  mule  half  the  way,  Bryan.  He  died  four 
days  ago,  and  since  then  I  have  been  walking!  " 

"  You  came  on  a  mule!  "  the  Englishman  repeated  be- 
wildered.   "  Where  from?  " 

"  From  San  Francisco,  of  course!  " 

"  My  God!" 

He  looked  at  her  in  admiration  tempered  with  wonder. 
She  had  expected  this,  and  was  gratified. 

"  Yes!  You  didn't  think  I  was  plucky  enough  for  that, 
I  guess!  It's  been  pretty  bad  —  worse  than  I  thought  it 
would  be,  when  I  started.  I  didn't  mind  so  much  until 
Johnny  —  that  was  my  mule  —  died.  He  seemed  sorter 
company,  and  he  was  a  real  good  one.  Afterwards  it  got 
lonesome,  and  the  nights  were  so  dark  and  long,  I  was 
scared  sometimes.  I  used  to  lie  quite  still,  with  my  face 
turned  to  the  east,  and  as  soon  as  the  first  streak  of  light 
came  I  could  go  to  sleep.  Then,  the  day  before  yesterday, 
I  finished  up  all  the  food  I  had !  I  don't  believe  I  want  to 
talk  about  the  time  since  then,"  she  concluded,  with  a  little 
shiver.    "  I  guess  I  won't,  anyway!  " 

He  sat  and  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  without  speaking. 
He  was  not  a  man  of  quick  comprehension,  and  the  thing 
amazed  him. 

"  Five  hundred  miles  all  alone,  and  a  beastly  rough  track 
too,"  he  said  at  last.  "  Why,  child,  it  seems  impossible. 
And  why  on  earth  have  you  come?  " 

The  colour  rushed  into  her  dusky  cheeks,  and  her  eyes, 
soft  and  dark  now  that  the  gleam  of  famine  had  fled,  filled 
with  tears. 

"  You  —  you  are  not  glad  to  see  me!"  she  exclaimed 
piteously. 

He  was  not.    That  was  a  fact.    But  he  began  to  see  that 


ON   THE   BANKS    OF   THE   BLUE   RIVER    17 

it  would  not  do  to  let  her  know  it.  He  swore  a  great  inward 
oath,  but  he  leaned  over  and  took  her  hand  as  tenderly  as 
he  could. 

"  Of  course  I'm  glad,  Myra!  If  you  knew  how  beastly 
dull  it  was  here,  month  after  month  with  never  a  soul  to 
speak  to,  you  wouldn't  wonder  at  that.  But  what  beats  me 
is,  why  you've  come !  You  haven't  risked  your  life  to  come 
to  such  a  picnic  as  we're  having  out  here!  You've  got  a 
reason  for  coming! " 

She  nodded,  with  her  eyes  anxiously  fixed  upon  him. 

"Yes!    I've  brought  you  something.     Guess   what!" 

His  expression  changed.  A  sudden  light  leaped  into  his 
eyes. 

"  Is  it  a  letter?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes." 

He  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Where  is  it?  " 

"  Give  me  a  knife  and  I  will  get  it,"  she  answered. 

He  handed  her  one.  She  felt  up  one  side  of  her  tattered 
coat,  and  cut  a  little  slit  near  the  shoulder.  Through  the 
opening  she  drew  a  long  envelope,  and  held  it  out  to  him; 
her  lips  slightly  parted,  and  her  eyes  eagerly  watching  for 
his  approval. 

He  took  it  into  his  hand  and  looked  at  it  almost  as  though 
he  feared  to  break  the  seal.  It  was  yellow  with  age,  and 
the  postmark  was  ancient.  He  looked  from  it  into  the  girl's 
face.    Her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"  You  are  not  glad  that  I  brought  it,"  she  faltered.  "  It 
isn't  of  any  importance  after  all.  You  haven't  thanked 
me,  you  haven't  said  a  single  kind  word  to  me,  and  —  and 
you  haven't  even  kissed  me !  I  —  I  wish  I  had  died  and 
not  got  here  at  all!  "  she  wound  up  with  a  little  sob. 

He  passed  his  arm  around  her  waist  and  drew  her  lips  to 
his. 


18     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

"  There,  don't  cry,  Myra,"  he  said  kindly.  "  I'm  not  an 
eloquent  chap,  you  know,  and  I  was  kind  of  dazed.  You're 
a  regular  brick,  little  woman,  to  bring  me  that  letter.  I 
don't  believe  there's  another  girl  in  the  States  would  have 
had  so  much  pluck.  Cheer  up  now,  do.  Of  course  I'm  glad 
to  see  you.    You  know  that." 

She  listened  to  him  eagerly,  and  gave  a  little  sigh  of 
relief.  Then  she  swept  the  tears  away,  and  smiled  up  at 
him  faintly. 

"  I  think  I  was  pretty  glad  to  have  an  excuse  to  come," 
she  whispered  in  his  ear.  "  I  was  weary  of  waiting  for  you 
to  come  back,  and  —  oh,  it  was  all  such  a  bother.  I  would 
sooner  have  died  than  gone  back  to  the  old  life,  the  life 
from  which  you  saved  me,  Bryan.  It  was  all  horrid.  Oh, 
aren't  I  glad  I'm  here !  You  won't  send  me  back,  will  you?  " 
she  exclaimed,  in  sudden  alarm. 

"  We'll  talk  about  that  in  the  morning,"  he  answered. 
"  I  haven't  read  my  letter  yet.  I  may  not  be  stopping  here 
myself  much  longer." 

"  Say  that  I  may  stay  as  long  as  you  do,"  she  persisted. 
"  Tell  me  that  when  you  go,  you  will  take  me  with  you. 
Just  let  me  hear  you  say  that,  and  I  won't  worry  you  any 
more.    I'll  do  everything  you  tell  me.    You  say  that." 

He  frowned  and  looked  away  from  her  great  eager  eyes 
on  to  the  floor.  Here  was  a  pretty  mess  for  him!  What 
could  he  say  to  her? 

"  You'll  have  to  be  reasonable,  Myra,"  he  said  slowly. 
"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  stop.  What  on  earth  could  I  do 
with  you?  Do  you  know  that  there  are  four  or  five  hundred 
men  down  in  the  valley  there,  and  not  a  woman  amongst 
them?    How  could  I  keep  you  here?  " 

"  No  one  would  know  that  I  was  a  woman,"  she  pleaded 
piteously.  "  I  would  never  go  outside  the  door,  if  you 
like." 


ON   THE   BANKS   OF   THE   BLUE   RIVER    19 

"  They'd  soon  find  out.  They'd  want  to  know  why  you 
didn't  work,  and  what  was  the  meaning  of  those  pretty 
hands  and  feet,"  he  said  indulgently.  "  No,  we  couldn't 
keep  the  secret  if  you  stayed,  Myra.  They're  a  rough  lot 
down  there,  too,  I  can  tell  you.  Besides,  what  on  earth 
would  you  wear?  "  he  added,  with  masculine  irrelevance. 

She  glanced  down  at  the  rents  in  her  rough  attire,  and 
blushed. 

"  You  have  a  needle  and  thread  here,"  she  said.  "  I 
could  patch  these  things  up  somehow.  I  —  I  brought  a 
gown  with  me  in  my  bundle  there,  but  I  suppose  I  mustn't 
wear  that?  " 

He  shook  his  head  and  glanced  towards  the  bundle,  which 
was  lying  upon  the  floor  half-open.  Something  he  saw 
seemed  to  him  familiar.  He  touched  it  with  his  foot  and 
leaned  forward. 

"  What  dress  did  you  bring?  "  he  asked. 

Her  eyes  sought  his  appealingly,  and  the  deep  colour 
stained  her  cheeks.  A  little  tremulous  smile  parted  the 
corners  of  her  lips. 

"  It  is  —  the  blue  serge  one,  the  one  you  liked.  I  had 
put  it  away  until  you  came  back.  Kind  of  silly  to  bring  it, 
wasn't  it?  " 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment,  and  his  own  eyes  grew 
misty.  The  pathos  of  the  whole  thing,  as  he  alone  could 
understand  it,  was  irresistibly  borne  in  upon  him.  Like 
a  swift  vision  he  seemed  to  see  her  struggling  across  that 
great  rocky  plain,  day  after  day,  night  after  night,  fighting 
against  the  horrible  loneliness,  braving  dangers  and  endur- 
ing privations  which  might  have  daunted  many  a  man,  and 
all  the  while  clinging  to  her  poor  little  bundle,  never  parting 
with  it  even  in  those  last  dreadful  hours  of  exhaustion  and 
despair.  Poor  child!  He  remembered  the  gown  well.  It 
was  one  which  he  had  bought  for  her  himself,  the  straight 


20     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

tailor-made  folds  pleasing  his  English  eye.  He  remembered, 
too,  how  proud  she  had  been  when  he  had  admired  it,  and 
how  she  had  worn  it  on  every  possible  occasion.  There  it 
lay  before  him,  carefully  folded  and  rolled  up,  and  carried 
for  more  than  five  hundred  miles  in  the  hope  that  to  see  her 
in  it  might  awaken  some  of  that  old  tenderness  which  with 
him,  alas!  was  almost  a  thing  of  the  past.  He  looked  into 
her  strained,  plaintive  face,  and  did  what,  as  yet,  of  his  own 
accord  he  had  not  done  or  desired  to  do.  He  kissed 
her. 

She  laughed  softly,  and  glanced  up  at  him  from  his 
shoulder,  pointing  to  her  clothes. 

"  Do  these  things  look  very  awful?  " 

He  affected  not  to  notice  the  look  which  pleaded  for 
some  consoling  speech,  and  gently  detaching  himself  from 
her  embrace,  he  stooped  down  and  drew  from  underneath 
the  plank  bed  a  long  white  linen  coat  which  he  had  bought 
in  San  Francisco,  but  had  found  far  too  small  for  him.  He 
shook  it,  and  held  it  out  to  her. 

"  They  want  stitching,  then  they'd  be  all  right,"  he 
declared.  "  You'd  better  put  this  on  for  a  bit,  and  try  to 
go  to  sleep.  You've  talked  more  than  enough  now,  and 
you  look  deadly  tired.    Good  night." 

She  sat  up  and  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  but  he  kept 
his  head  turned  resolutely  away. 

"  Where  are  you  —  going  to  sleep?  "  she  asked  quietly. 

"  Outside.  I  generally  do.  We  are  too  high  up  here 
for  the  dews  to  hurt,  you  know.  Call  out  if  you  are  fright- 
ened, or  if  you  want  anything.    I  shall  hear  you." 

"  Thank  you.    Good  night,  Bryan." 

A  little  break  in  her  voice  smote  his  heart.  He  thought 
of  the  long  lonely  nights  of  terror  through  which  she  had 
passed,  and  he  was  troubled.     He  felt  a  brute.     For  a 


ON   THE    BANKS   OF   THE   BLUE   RIVER    21 

moment  he  hesitated.    Then  he  took  one  swift  step  across 
to  her  side,  and  kissed  her  tenderly. 

"  Good  night,  Myra,"  he  said.  "  God  bless  you!  " 
She  laughed  a  little.  Blessings  sounded  oddly  in  her 
ears,  but  the  kiss  was  more  like  old  times.  So  she  did  her 
best  to  console  herself  with  it,  slipping  off  her  soiled  clothes 
and  curling  herself  up  on  the  bed.  In  a  few  moments  she 
was  asleep. 

It  was  the  end  of  her  pilgrimage.  She  had  risked  her  life, 
had  faced  a  loneliness  as  awful  as  the  loneliness  of  death, 
and  had  cheerfully  borne  the  most  terrible  hardships  to 
bring  him  the  letter  —  and  herself;  and  now  that  her  task 
was  at  an  end  she  lay  stretched  upon  his  hard  plank  bed, 
dreaming  as  peacefully  of  the  happiness  of  being  once  more 
with  the  man  she  loved,  as  though  the  bed  were  of  down, 
and  the  hut  a  palace.  And  outside,  within  a  few  yards  of 
her,  the  Englishman  lay  face  downwards  upon  the  short  dry 
turf,  cursing  alike  his  past  folly  and  his  present  weakness. 
His  letter  lay  unopened  by  his  side ;  for  the  moment  he  had 
even  forgotten  it.  Whilst  he  had  been  with  her  he  had 
striven  hard  to  hide  his  feelings;  but  now  that  he  was  alone 
in  the  darkness  he  looked  this  thing  in  the  face,  and  the 
longer  he  looked  the  less  he  liked  it.  It  seemed  only  the 
other  day  that  he  had  made  his  escape;  that  he  had  willingly, 
nay,  eagerly,  turned  over  that  short  chapter  of  his  life,  and 
with  intense  relief  had  told  himself  that  it  was  a  past  dream 
of  folly,  over  and  done  with  for  ever.  It  was  one  of  fate's 
grim  jests,  an  everyday  affair.  But  it  seemed  a  little  hard 
upon  her. 

After  a  while  he  sat  up,  lit  a  pipe,  and  tore  open  the 
envelope  of  his  letter.  The  moonlight  was  just  strong 
enough  to  enable  him  to  decipher  it  slowly. 


22  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

"  18,  Marlowe  Court,  Strand,  London,  W.  C. 

"  August  17th. 
"  Dear  Sir, 

"  After  considerable  trouble  and  some  expense,  we  have 
become  acquainted  with  some  further  details  concerning 
the  man,  Maurice  Huntly,  who  visited  you  at  Denton  on 
the  first  of  last  month.  We  find  that  his  real  name  is 
Marriot,  and  that  seven  years  ago  a  warrant  was  issued  for 
his  arrest  on  a  charge  of  forgery.  The  warrant  was  never 
executed,  as  he  fled  the  country,  but,  on  his  recent  visit  to 
England,  the  police  obtained  some  clue  as  to  his  identity, 
and  were  on  his  track.  It  was  to  escape  from  them,  and 
not  to  avoid  completing  his  disclosures  to  you,  that  he 
quitted  England  so  abruptly.  We  trust  that  this  will  enable 
you  to  come  across  him  in  the  States,  as  he  certainly  has  no 
object  in  keeping  out  of  your  way.  We  believe  that  he  took 
another  name  in  New  York,  but  that  you  will  doubtless 
have  ascertained  for  yourself.  Our  information  further  goes 
to  show  that  he  was  the  son  of  a  clergyman,  and  started 
life  with  every  advantage.  Should  anything  further  tran- 
spire we  will  let  you  know.  In  the  meantime  we  remain, 
"  Your  obedient  Servants, 

"  Mason  and  Williams. 

"  P.  S.  —  It  is  never  our  desire  to  extract  from  our  clients 
an  unwilling  confidence,  but  at  the  same  time,  we  cannot 
refrain  from  submitting  to  you  that  we  should  be  in  a  far 
better  position  to  work  on  your  behalf,  if  we  possessed  some 
information  as  to  the  nature  of  the  disclosures  so  important 
to  yourself,  referred  to  by  the  man  Marriot  during  his  brief 
visit  to  you  at  Denton. " 

He  read  it  through  twice,  and  remained  for  some  time 
afterwards  deep  in  thought.   Then,  with  an  effort  to  conquer 


ON   THE   BANKS   OF   THE   BLUE   RIVER     23 

his  restlessness,  he  lay  down,  pulled  a  rug  over  him,  and 
tried  to  sleep.  Through  half-closed  eyes  he  watched  the 
fireflies  gleaming  in  the  valley  below,  and  listened  to  the 
faint,  lulling  music  from  the  pine  forest  away  overhead. 
Gradually  he  grew  drowsy.  He  was  almost  dozing,  when 
a  sound  close  at  hand  disturbed  him.  The  door  of  the 
shanty  was  softly  opened,  and  Myra  came  out. 

She  walked  noiselessly  towards  him,  with  bare  feet,  and 
wrapped  in  the  long  white  garment  which  he  had  given  her, 
and  which  certainly  had  never  seemed  destined  to  fall  into 
such  graceful  folds  around  so  dainty  a  form.  He  caught 
one  glimpse  of  her  dusky  face,  strangely  soft  in  the  waning 
moonlight,  the  lips  a  little  parted  in  a  faint  smile,  and  the 
deep,  glowing  eyes  full  of  a  wonderful  liquid  fire;  and  he 
realized  as  he  had  never  done  before  the  wild,  strange 
beauty  of  the  girl  who  was  stealing  like  a  ghost  to  his  side. 
Then  he  closed  his  eyes  and  breathed  heavily. 

She  stooped  down  till  her  warm  breath  fell  upon  his 
bronzed,  sunburnt  cheek.  Then,  seeing  that  he  made  no 
movement,  she  gave  a  wistful  little  sigh,  and  kissed  him  so 
lightly  that  her  lips  seemed  scarcely  to  brush  his.  Still  he 
did  not  move,  or  give  any  sign  of  wakefulness.  Presently 
he  felt  her  sink  down  by  his  side,  and  her  head  drooped  upon 
his  shoulder.  In  a  few  moments  she  was  asleep.  As  soon 
as  he  was  sure  of  it,  he  threw  the  rug  over  her,  and  rising 
softly,  walked  away  in  the  darkness. 


CHAPTER  III 

A  WESTERN   LOVE 

By  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  a  bright  sun,  mounting  into 
a  sky  of  dazzling  clearness,  began  to  make  its  power  felt. 
An  hour  later  the  Englishman,  who  had  been  working  on  his 
claim  since  the  first  gray  streaks  of  dawn,  took  off  his 
clothes  and  plunged  into  a  deep  pool  of  the  river.  Emerg- 
ing, he  dried  himself  leisurely,  dressed,  and  scrambled  up 
the  gorge  side  to  the  small  platform  of  green  turf  on  which 
he  had  built  his  cabin. 

His  guest  was  at  the  door  in  her  cowboy's  clothes,  patched 
and  mended  up.  She  welcomed  him  with  a  little  cry  of 
delight,  and  then  a  swift,  deep  blush,  as  she  saw  his  lips 
part  with  amusement. 

"  That's  real  mean!  "  she  declared.  "  It's  bad  enough 
to  have  to  wear  such  things,  without  being  laughed  at.  I 
shall  go  and  put  on  my  gown!  " 

He  laughed  outright,  pushing  her  before  him  into  the 
cabin,  and  glancing  apprehensively  down  into  the  valley, 
and  across  to  the  opposite  shanty.  There  was  no  one  in 
sight. 

"  You  won't  do  anything  of  the  sort,  if  you  please,"  he 
said  decidedly.  "  You  look  very  well  as  you  are.  Come 
and  let's  get  some  breakfast.    I'm  starving!  " 

"  It's  ready  and  waiting  —  all  that  I  can  find.    Bryan, 

24 


A   WESTERN   LOVE  25 

this  is  the  most  elegant  place  in  the  world.  I  never  saw 
anything  half  so  beautiful." 

He  turned  round  and  stood  by  her  side  in  the  doorway, 
looking  across  the  valley  to  where  a  dim  blue  haze  shrouded 
the  distant  mountain-tops.  In  the  pure,  fine  air  all  colours 
seemed  intensified  —  the  green  of  the  alder  and  hazel-trees 
rising  sharp  and  clear  against  the  sky,  and  the  deeper  shade 
of  the  broad  belt  of  pine-trees  which  fringed  the  mountain's 
side;  a  great  flowering  cactus  with  bright  scarlet  blossoms 
drooped  over  the  precipice  below,  and  the  rocks  and  bushes 
were  starred  with  flowers  of  strange  and  brilliant  colours 
growing  out  of  every  crack  and  in  every  corner.  The  dry 
morning  air  was  sweet,  too,  with  the  perfume  of  many  herbs 
and  flowers,  and  far  down  in  the  valley  the  sun-smitten 
river  gleamed  like  a  bed  of  silver.  The  girl,  to  whom  nature 
in  such  a  guise  as  this  was  a  revelation,  stood  there  with 
bright,  thoughtful  eyes,  and  with  the  languid  morning 
breeze  stealing  through  her  dark  wavy  hair,  no  longer 
coiled  up  and  concealed.  She  was  feeling  the  touch  of  a  new 
power  in  the  world,  a  new  sensation.  Hereafter  she  some- 
times associated  a  new  phase  of  life  into  which  she  was  to 
pass,  with  this  morning. 

"I  like  this!"  she  said  softly.  "  It's  better  than  the 
city.    I'd  like  to  live  here  always!  " 

The  Englishman  frowned. 

"  You'd  be  tired  of  it  in  a  week,  Myra.  No  shops,  no 
theatre,  no  drives  in  the  park !  I  doubt  whether  you'd  stand 
it  for  a  week.  Come  along,  and  let's  see  what  you've  made 
of  breakfast." 

The  girl  turned  away  with  a  sigh,  and  followed  him  into 
the  shanty. 

"  I've  found  some  tea,"  she  said,  "  and  some  bacon  —  I 
cooked  that.  The  stove  don't  go  very  well;  guess  it  wants 
cleaning." 


2G  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

"  That's  all  right.  Things  look  real  tidy  for  once.  Sit 
down  and  let  us  have  some  breakfast.  Afterwards  I  want 
to  talk  to  you." 

She  obeyed  him  in  silence.  Her  cheeks  had  suddenly 
grown  pale  again.  She  ate  but  little,  watching  her  com- 
panion most  of  the  time.  What  was  he  going  to  do  with 
her?  Would  he  send  her  back  after  all  —  away  from  him, 
and  back  to  the  life  she  hated  with  a  great  soul-shuddering 
hate?  Oh,  he  would  not  be  so  cruel  as  that;  surely  he 
would  not!  Go  back  to  that  great  hideous  city  with  its 
garishness  and  glitter,  its  cheap  vice  and  all  its  brazen  show 
of  falseness  and  iniquity !  She  had  drifted  there  on  the  broad 
bosom  of  an  unkind  fate ;  a  fate  which  should  surely  have 
marked  her  out  for  better  things.  Vice  had  no  allurements 
for  her.  The  pleasures  of  the  demi-monde,  the  cheap 
theatre  and  the  tawdry  dancing  saloon,  were  flavourless  to 
her.  She  thought  of  them  now  as  she  gazed  out  at  the 
glorious  blue  sky,  and  the  panorama  of  bold  and  magnificent 
scenery,  with  a  shudder  which  came  from  her  very  soul. 
The  sweet  scented  breeze  which  swept  in  through  the  open 
doorway,  tasted  to  her  jaded  senses  like  the  elixir  of  life.  A 
passionate  disgust  of  cities  and  all  their  ways  leaped  up 
within  her.  From  that  moment  the  life  of  the  past  had 
become  impossible  to  her.  She  had  been  born  one  of  na- 
ture's children  outside  the  ken  of  cities,  almost  of  civiliza- 
tion, and  it  was  but  the  return  to  an  old  allegiance. 

The  Englishman  had  finished  his  breakfast,  calmly  un- 
conscious of  all  that  was  passing  through  the  mind  of  his 
companion.  He  lit  a  pipe,  dragged  the  form  into  the  sun- 
shine, and  motioned  her  to  sit  at  the  other  end  of  it. 

"  Myra,"  he  said  gently,  after  a  few  moments'  meditative 
silence,  "  you've  done  me  a  real  good  turn.  You've  shown 
uncommon  grit,  and  you've  accomplished  a  thing  which  a 
good  many  men  wouldn't  have  cared  about.    I  haven't  said 


A   WESTERN   LOVE  27 

much  about  it ;  I  was  so  surprised  to  see  you  last  night  that 
you  might  have  thought  I  wasn't  grateful.  But  I  am.  I 
want  to  show  it,  if  I  can.  I  want  to  repay  you  so  far  as  a 
man  is  able  to  repay  a  service  of  that  sort;  and  so " 

"  I  want  no  repayment  —  only  to  stop  right  here,"  she 
interrupted  breathlessly.  "  I  should  be  perfectly  happy. 
I  could  look  after  things  and  cook  for  you,  and  keep  the 
place  clean,  and  —  oh,  Bryan,  for  God's  sake,  let  me  stop ! 
You  were  fond  of  me  once  —  anyway,  you  used  to  tell  me 
so.  Don't  drive  me  away!  I  don't  care  how  you  treat  me. 
I  will  be  your  slave  if  you  like  —  nothing  more.  Only 
don't  send  me  back!  Let  me  stay ,  Bryan !  Do  let  me  stay!  " 

She  had  slipped  from  the  form  on  to  the  ground,  and  was 
kneeling  at  his  feet,  her  eyes  bright  with  tears,  and  the 
colour  coming  and  going  in  her  cheeks.  She  even  ventured 
to  lay  her  arms  imploringly  on  his  shoulders,  and  turn  them 
round  his  neck.  The  Englishman  gently  unwound  her 
fingers,  retaining  possession  of  one  of  her  hands.  He  looked 
down  into  her  flushed  face  with  a  troubled  shade  in  his  own. 

"  Myra,  it  wouldn't  do,"  he  said  kindly.  "  You'll  think 
me  a  brute,  of  course.  Dare  say  I  am.  But  I  want  you  to 
leave  here  with  the  expressman,  the  day  after  to-morrow, 
and  go  right  back  to  San  Francisco.  I  can't  keep  you  here, 
little  woman,  if  I  wanted  to;  and  if  I  could,  I  wouldn't,  so 
there!" 

Her  bosom  heaved.  She  drew  herself  right  away  from 
him,  and  stood  leaning  against  the  wall,  with  a  crimson 
colour  in  her  cheeks  and  her  eyes  afire. 

"  You  —  you  don't  care  for  me  any  more,  then?  It  was 
true,  what  I  feared !  You  came  here  to  get  rid  of  me.  You 
were  tired,  you  wanted  to  escape." 

"  Steady,  Myra.  You  know  that's  not  right.  I  came 
here  for  two  reasons.  First,  to  make  money.  Secondly, 
because  I  was  satisfied  that  the  man  whom  I  had  come  from 


28      THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

England  to  find,  was  not  in  San  Francisco.  I  had  no  trace 
of  him,  nothing  to  go  by.  I  thought  to  myself  that  if  he 
was  the  restless  sort  of  chap  every  one  made  him  out  to  be, 
he  would  most  likely  be  off  on  the  gold  fever,  like  the  rest 
of  them.  That's  why  I  came,  Myra.  It's  all  very  well  for 
me  here.  I'm  a  rough  sort  of  chap,  and  I  can  find  my  level 
anywhere,  but  it's  not  the  place  for  a  woman." 

"  Any  place  is  good  enough  for  such  as  I!"  she  cried 
passionately.  "  It's  only  an  excuse;  you  want  to  get  rid  of 
me.  You  do!  And  I  have  come  all  this  way  just  to  see  you, 
just  to  bring  you  that  letter.  Just  to  be  with  you!  Oh,  I 
hate  myself!  I  hate  you!  I  wish  I  were  dead !  " 

Her  eyes  strayed  to  the  revolver  which  lay  upon  the  table. 
She  made  a  quick  movement  towards  it,  but  he  caught  her 
wrist  and  held  it  firmly. 

"  That'll  do,  Myra,"  he  said  firmly.  "  Just  listen  to  me. 
If  I  am  brutal  it  is  your  own  fault  —  so  here  goes.  You 
came  to  me  of  your  own  free  will  —  ay,  of  your  own  accord. 
Is  it  not  so?  I  met  you  in  Jose's  cafe  at  San  Francisco, 
whilst  I  was  idling  about  waiting  for  —  you  know  what. 
Well,  you  came  and  kept  house  with  me  for  a  month  or  two. 
I  was  not  the  first.  You  told  me  so  yourself.  The  thing 
was  common  enough.  I  never  made  you  any  promises. 
I  never  gave  you  to  understand  that  it  would  be  likely  to 
last.  When  I  heard  that  the  man  for  whom  I  was  lying 
in  wait  had  left  the  city,  I  gave  you  notice  that  I  was  off. 
Well,  you  were  sorry,  and  I  was  sorry.  I  shared  up  all  that 
I  had  in  the  world,  and  I  left  you.  I  may  have  made  you 
some  sort  of  promise  about  coming  back  again,  but  never 
as  a  permanency,  you  understand.  I'm  as  fond  of  you  now 
as  I  ever  was  —  fonder,  if  anything,  after  what  you've  done 
for  me  —  but  you  must  take  this  little  affair  with  me  as  you 
took  the  others  —  see?  Now  I've  made  you  feel  badly. 
I'm  sorry,  but  I'd  got  to  do  it." 


A   WESTERN   LOVE  29 

The  changing  shades  in  the  girl's  countenance  had  been 
a  study  for  which  many  an  eastern  painter  would  willingly 
have  bartered  every  model  in  his  studio.  At  first  her  dusky 
face  had  darkened,  and  her  eyes  had  blazed  with  all  the  wild 
free  fury  of  a  woman  whose  vanity,  or  love,  or  both,  are 
deeply  wounded.  But  as  he  went  on,  as  the  whole  bitter 
meaning  of  his  words,  winged  with  a  kindness  which  seemed 
to  her  like  the  poison  on  the  arrow's  tip,  sank  into  her  under- 
standing, the  anger  seemed  to  die  away.  When  he  had 
finished  she  was  crouched  upon  the  ground  with  her  back 
to  him.  She  did  not  answer  him  or  address  him  in  any  way; 
only  he  knew  that  she  was  sobbing  her  heart  out,  and,  being 
by  no  means  a  stone,  he  began  to  relent. 

"  Myra,"  he  said  kindly,  stretching  out  his  hand  and  lay- 
ing it  upon  her  shoulder,  "  come  and  sit  with  me  for  a  minute 
or  two  before  I  go !  I  must  be  off  to  work  again  directly,  and 
I  can't  leave  you  like  this." 

She  got  up  meekly,  dried  her  eyes,  and  sat  at  the  extreme 
end  of  the  form,  with  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap,  and  gazing 
listlessly  out  of  the  open  doorway.  Alas !  the  music  of  the 
winds  and  the  deep,  soft  colouring  of  the  hills  and  far-off 
mountains  were  nothing  to  her  now!  All  the  buoyancy  of 
life  seemed  crushed  and  nerveless.  Even  that  sudden 
strong,  sweet  joy  in  these  glories  of  nature  which  had  leaped 
up  in  her  breast,  a  new-born  and  joyous  thing,  was  dead. 
Watching  her  as  she  sat  there,  the  Englishman  felt  like  a 
guilty  man.  He  had  made  some  clumsy  attempt  at  doing 
the  thing  which  seemed  to  his  limited  vision  right  and  kind. 
He  was  not  accustomed  to  women  or  their  ways,  but  he  felt 
instinctively  that  he  had  made  a  mistake  somehow.  A 
sense  almost  of  awe  came  upon  him.  He  felt  like  a  man 
who  has  destroyed  something  immeasurably  greater  than 
himself;  something  so  grand  that  no  power  in  this  world 
could  build  it  up  again.    He  was  penitent  and  remorseful, 


30  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

even  sorrowful,  without  any  very  clear  idea  as  to  what  this 
evil  thing  was  that  he  had  done.  Only  he  looked  into  this 
girl's  downcast  face,  and  he  felt  like  some  wanton  schoolboy 
who  has  dashed  to  the  ground  one  of  those  dainty,  brilliant 
butterflies  with  peach-coloured  wings,  and  a  bloom  so 
beautiful  that  a  single  touch  from  coarse  fingers  must  mar 
it  for  ever.  A  moment  before  it  was  one  of  God's  own 
creatures,  a  dream  of  soft  elegance  and  refined  colouring. 
Now  it  lies  upon  the  ground  bruised  and  shapeless,  fluttering 
its  broken  wings  for  the  last  time,  and  breathing  out  its  sad 
little  life.  In  a  minute  or  two  some  passer-by  will  kick  it 
into  the  dust.  That  will  be  the  end  of  it.  The  Englishman 
looked  at  the  girl  by  his  side,  and  his  eyes  twitched  con- 
vulsively.   There  was  an  odd  lump  in  his  throat. 

"  Myra,  I  don't  want  to  be  a  brute!  "  he  said  softly.  "  I 
want  to  act  squarely  to  you.  That's  what  makes  me  seem 
unkind,  perhaps.  I'm  quite  unsettled  here!  I've  heard 
nothing  of  the  man  I'm  in  search  of,  but  directly  I  have 
found  him,  I  shall  be  leaving  the  country  for  good.  It 
wouldn't  be  fair  to  take  up  with  you  again,  would  it? 
You're  not  like  the  others.    I  wouldn't  mind  if  you  were!  " 

She  shuddered  and  looked  up  at  him,  dry-eyed  and 
callous.  "  You  are  quite  right!  I  do  not  want  to  be  a 
burden  upon  any  one!  "  she  said  slowly.  "  I  am  ready  to 
do  just  what  you  think  best.  If  you  like,  I'll  go  back  the 
same  way  I  came.  I  dare  say  I  could  find  it  all  right.  If 
not,  it  wouldn't  much  matter!  " 

The  dull  despair  of  her  tone,  and  the  mute  abandonment 
of  herself  to  his  wishes,  moved  him  strangely.  For  the  first 
time  he  hesitated.  He  had  been  prepared  for  reproaches, 
he  had  steeled  his  heart  even  against  her  tears,  her  caress- 
ings,  her  beseechings ;  but  this  was  something  quite  differ- 
ent. From  feeling  altogether  in  the  right,  he  began  to 
wonder  vaguely  whether  he  was  not  attempting  something 


A   WESTERN   LOVE  31 

singularly  brutal  and  unmanly.  He  hesitated,  and  every 
moment  the  words  which  he  desired  to  say  became  more 
impossible.    He  turned  to  her  abruptly. 

"  Aren't  you  just  a  little  rough  on  me,  Myra?  "  he  said 
softly.  "  Don't  you  see  that  it  is  for  your  sake  I  wanted 
to  go!" 

She  looked  at  him,  and  his  eyes  fell  before  hers. 

"  For  my  sake!  "  she  repeated  bitterly. 

He  began  to  feel  absolutely  conscience-stricken.  After 
all,  the  reproach  in  her  tone  was  just.  It  was  as  much  for 
his  own  sake  as  hers  that  he  had  wanted  to  be  rid  of  her. 
There  was  an  element  of  Puritanism  in  the  man  which 
rebelled  against  all  the  irregularities  of  this  wild  western 
life.  He  liked  to  be  his  own  man  and  live  his  own  life! 
Well,  he  should  have  been  consistent!  Here  was  a  harvest 
of  his  own  sowing.  If  Iris  heart  had  not  been  moved  by  the 
wild,  beseeching  pathos  of  this  girl's  dark  eyes  shining  at 
him  through  a  cloud  of  thick  tobacco  smoke  in  Jose's  saloon, 
he  would  never  have  found  himself  in  such  a  quandary. 
Bah !  it  was  useless  to  waste  time  on  empty  regrets,  to  rail 
at  the  past  while  the  girl's  heart  was  breaking.  He  got  up, 
and  bent  over  her. 

"  Look  here,  Myra,"  he  said  kindly.  "  I  guess  I'm  not 
so  sure  about  being  right  after  all.  I'll  think  it  over  whilst 
I'm  at  work.  See?  Don't  fret!  We'll  see  if  we  can't  fix  up 
something." 

"  Very  well." 

He  relit  his  pipe,  and  kissed  her  hesitatingly  upon  the 
forehead,  a  salute  which  she  accepted  with  perfect  im- 
passiveness.  Then  he  strode  out  of  the  cottage,  and  down 
the  gorge  to  the  river-bed. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  LAUGH  OF  MR.  JAMES  HAMILTON 

Three  men,  the  last  to  leave  their  claims  after  the  day's 
work,  climbed  up  the  gorge  in  the  heavy  twilight.  The 
Englishman  and  his  partner  were  a  little  in  front,  Mr.  James 
Hamilton  brought  up  the  rear. 

At  the  parting  of  the  ways  they  were  separating,  as  usual, 
without  a  word,  when  the  Englishman  looked  back  over  his 
shoulder. 

"  No  cards  to-night,  you  chaps  —  not  at  my  shanty, 
anyhow!  "  he  said  briefly.    "  Do  you  hear,  Jim?  " 

"  Yes,  I  hear!  "  Mr.  Hamilton  repeated  surlily.  "  You 
want  me  to  sit  and  get  the  miserables  in  this  cussed  hole! 

I'll  see  myself  d d  first.    If  you  chaps  ain't  playing  I'm 

off  to  Dan  Cooper's  saloon.  Who  the  hell's  that  dodging 
about  your  hut?  "  he  added,  peering  upwards  through  the 
brambles.  "  Here  goes  for  them,  at  any  rate!  I'd  shoot 
anything  to-day,  from  a  dog  to  a  Christian!  " 

He  raised  his  gun  to  his  shoulder  with  a  savage  scowl. 
The  Englishman  stooped  down  quickly  and  knocked  the 
barrel  into  the  air,  where  it  exploded  harmlessly. 

"  I'll  do  my  own  shooting,  thank  you,  Jim!"  he  said 
carelessly.  "  I've  got  a  stranger  up  there,  a  boy  who's 
found  his  way  from  San  Francisco.  You  can  go  to  Cooper's 
store  if  you  like,  and  be  fleeced,  and  catch  a  fever,  and  get 

32 


THE   LAUGH    OF   MR,    JAMES    HAMILTON   33 

drunk  on  poison  at  a  dollar  a  glass!  It's  no  business  of 
mine,  but  if  you  take  my  advice,  you'll  stop  where  you  are 
and  go  to  bed  early  for  once!  There's  enough  blackguard- 
ism going  on  down  there,  without  your  being  mixed  up  in 
it." 

Mr.  Hamilton  turned  his  back  on  them  with  an  oath, 
and  disappeared.  The  Englishman  and  his  partner 
scrambled  up  the  opposite  side  of  the  gorge,  to  the  platform 
where  they  had  built  their  shanties  about  a  hundred  yards 
apart.  Arrived  at  the  top,  Pete  Morrison  thoughtfully 
hitched  up  his  trousers,  and  spitting  out  a  tobacco  plug, 
laid  his  hand  upon  the  other's  shoulder. 

"  Mate!  "  he  said  deliberately.    "  I  seed  that  stranger." 

The  Englishman  turned  quickly  round. 

"  Well,  what  if  you  did?  " 

"  Not  much!  It  ain't  a  female,  is  it?  " 

The  Englishman  was  beginning  to  lose  his  temper.  He 
answered  testily,  even  angrily. 

"  What  the  devil  does  it  matter  to  you  or  to  any  one  else, 
who  my  visitor  is!  I  suppose  I  may  have  whom  I  like  in 
my  own  shanty." 

Pete  was  quite  unmoved,  although  his  face  had  grown 
a  shade  more  serious.  He  took  off  his  cap,  and  began  flick- 
ing away  a  few  stray  mosquitoes. 

"  No  offence,  pard.  But  ain't  you  heard  what  Dan 
Cooper  and  his  lot  have  give  out?  " 

"  No." 

"  Well,  they  allow  they're  going  to  run  these  diggin's  on 
a  new  tack.  Dan  was  at  the  Black  Creek  lot,  and  I  guess 
you  know  what  a  hell  that  place  was  turned  into.  Well, 
they  allow  that  the  first  woman  who  shows  here,  out  she 
goes  and  him  as  brought  her,  claim  or  no  claim.  That's 
what  they  say  down  yonder,"  he  added,  jerking  his  thumb 
downwards  in  the  direction  of  the  camp.     "  That's  what 


34     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

Dan  Cooper  and  his  chaps  do  say,  and  I  reckon  they're 
strong  enough  to  run  this  section.' ' 

"  That's  so!"  the  Englishman  answered,  frowning. 
"  Thanks,  Pete!  I'll  take  care!  Better  be  mum  about  my 
visitor,  anyway." 

He  walked  away  up  the  little  green  path,  and  pushed 
open  the  door  of  the  hut.  'He  scarcely  knew  the  place.  It 
had  been  cleaned  and  swept,  and  his  evening  meal  was 
prepared.  Myra  was  sitting  in  a  corner,  mending  some  old 
garment  of  his. 

He  greeted  her  kindly,  but  without  going  over  to  her 
side. 

"  Well,  Myra!  been  lonesome,  eh?  "  he  asked. 
She  flashed  a  single  look  up  at  him  from  her  brilliant 
eyes,  and  bent  again  over  her  task. 

"  Sorter  lonesome,"  she  assented.  "  I've  been  busy 
fixing  up  things  too!  " 

"  Looks  like  it,"  he  answered,  glancing  around.  "  Let's 
have  supper!  We've  had  a  nailing  hard  day's  work!  " 

She  got  up  without  a  word,  and  seating  herself  opposite 
to  him,  poured  out  the  tea  from  a  tin  pot.  He  ate  and 
drank  with  characteristic  appetite,  and  she  made  a  show  of 
following  his  example.  When  he  had  finished,  she  cleared 
away,  and  then  came  and  sat  down  by  his  side. 

"  Have  you  fixed  up  when  I  am  to  go?  "  she  asked 
quietly. 

She  turned  a  pale,  anxious  face  towards  him,  and  sat 
patiently  waiting  for  his  answer.  It  was  long  in  coming. 
He  had  begun  dimly  to  see  what  the  end  of  it  must  be ;  but 
even  at  that  last  moment  he  felt  a  curious  reluctance  to 
re-entering  into  the  bondage  of  her  love  for  him.  He  leaned 
back  on  the  bench,  and  looked  at  her,  wondering  at  the 
peculiar  inappropriateness  of  her  rude  and  ill-shaped  clothes 
with  that  strange,  delicate  beauty  which  was  so  essentially 


THE   LAUGH   OF   MR.   JAMES   HAMILTON   35 

dainty  and  feminine.  His  heart  beat  a  little  faster  as  he 
looked  into  her  soft  dark  eyes  with  their  silky  eyelashes,  and 
noted,  with  some  return  of  his  old  admiration  of  her,  the 
quivering  sensitive  mouth,  the  great  coils  of  waving  glossy 
hair,  and  the  perfectly  graceful  curve  of  her  throat  and  neck, 
gleaming  as  white  as  marble  in  contrast  with  the  low  black 
shirt  she  wore.  The  power  of  her  beauty  had  always  been 
great  over  him,  and  he  was  beginning  to  feel  a  sudden  and 
altogether  undesired  revival  of  the  curious  fascination 
which  once  before  she  had  possessed  for  him. 

"  I  have  been  inquiring  about  the  expressman,"  he 
answered.  "  Seems  I  was  out  in  my  reckoning.  They  say 
he's  not  due  for  three  weeks  or  so." 

She  lifted  her  eyes,  and  watched  him  covertly.  He  had 
not  seemed  in  any  way  disappointed  or  disturbed  at  the 
prospect  which  was  before  them.  Perhaps,  after  all,  he  was 
not  so  very  sorry.  He  was  only  human,  and  the  fierce  soli- 
tude of  the  long  nights,  with  their  almost  brutal  relaxations 
of  cards  and  raw  spirits,  had  filled  him  with  a  great  intoler- 
able weariness.  In  the  day-time  when  work  was  possible, 
the  life  was,  at  any  rate,  bearable.  But  the  darkness  came 
early,  and  the  evenings  were  long.  He  had  no  books,  nor 
any  inclination  to  read  them.  The  man's  nature  was  too 
large  for  him  to  keep  himself  aloof  from  those  others,  his 
fellow-workers,  and  besides,  he  had  not  the  capacity  for 
solitude.  He  was  one  with  his  fellows;  a  man  with  all  the 
instincts  of  a  common  and  gregarious  humanity. 

Through  the  long  day  and  in  the  intervals  of  his  toil,  he 
had  been  thinking  of  these  things.  What  had  been  gall  and 
weariness  in  the  city  presented  itself  here,  and  under  these 
conditions,  in  altogether  a  different  aspect.  He  might 
truthfully  say,  if  ever  his  conscience  should  reproach  him  in 
the  years  to  come,  that  he  had  done  his  best  to  rid  himself 
of  this  girl's  presence.    He  had  failed!   It  was  fate!   She 


36  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

had  drifted  to  him  again,  a  flotsam  on  the  broad  river  of 
humanity,  herself  controlling  the  current  which  bore  her 
into  his  arms.  After  all,  he  was  but  passive  in  the  matter. 
Even  had  he  desired  it,  escape  would  not  be  easy,  and  in  his 
heart  he  was  not  at  all  sure  that  he  did  desire  it.  In  San 
Francisco  he  had  found  life  with  this  girl  in  curious  antip- 
athy to  all  his  crude  notions  of  what  was  seemly  and  honest. 
A  strong  and  never  conquered  dislike  to  their  mode  of  living 
chafed  him  from  the  first.  He  had  not  a  particle  of  religion, 
nor  any  conscious  love  of  morality.  He  went  into  his 
bondage  perfectly  untrammelled  by  any  scruples  other  than 
instinctive  ones.  But  in  a  week  he  was  conscious  of  but  one 
desire :  to  free  himself  from  a  connection  which  was  utterly 
distasteful  to  him  as  speedily  as  possible;  and  it  was  in  a 
measure  the  reaction  from  the  enervating  period  of  his  brief 
liaison  which  had  led  him  to  throw  in  his  lot  with  a  handful 
of  men  bound  for  the  gold  region.  In  the  shadow  of  the 
great  mountains,  face  to  face  with  Nature  in  all  her  primi- 
tive grandeur,  he  had  become  himself  again.  The  hard 
physical  toil  had  been  a  luxury  to  him.  He  had  already 
learned  to  think  kindly,  almost  with  regret,  of  the  girl  who 
had  so  suddenly  returned  into  his  life.  What  a  difference 
her  presence  seemed  to  make  in  the  miserable  little  shanty ! 
He  was  forced  to  admit  it.  His  day's  reflections  had  all 
been  favourable  to  her.  Even  had  he  desired  it,  escape  now 
would  not  be  easy. 

Perhaps  she  guessed  by  his  face  and  his  tone,  that  he 
was  relenting  in  his  demeanour  towards  her.  Womanlike, 
she  took  advantage  of  the  opportunity.  She  glided  across 
the  room,  and  fell  upon  her  knees  before  him. 

"  Don't  send  me  away,  Bryan!  "  she  begged.  "  Don't! 
Don't!" 

She  was  sobbing  hysterically  at  his  feet,  crouching  there, 
her  hair  and  dress  disordered,  with  all  the  sinuous  grace  and 


THE   LAUGH   OF   MR.   JAMES   HAMILTON   37 

elegance  of  some  beautiful  wild  animal.  Then  he  took  her 
hand,  and  hesitated  for  the  last  time.  Slowly  he  stooped 
down,  and  wound  his  arms  around  her,  raising  her  towards 
him.  With  a  little  soft  cry  she  twined  her  fingers  around 
his  neck,  and  buried  her  face  upon  his  shoulder.  Then  he 
drew  her  lips  to  his  and  kissed  her. 

They  were  silent  for  a  few  moments,  gazing  out  into  the 
rich,  soft  darkness,  which  spread  itself  like  a  mantle  below 
them.  Down  in  the  camp  they  could  hear  the  mingled 
sounds  of  revelry  at  Cooper's  store,  and  the  steady  ham- 
mering of  some  new  arrivals  marking  out  their  claim  and 
setting  up  tents.  It  was  early  for  the  moon,  and  the  fireflies 
like  flashes  of  gold  darted  up  and  down  the  sides  of  the  steep 
ravine,  and  hung  like  tiny  stars  over  the  valley  below. 
Suddenly  from  the  other  side  of  the  cleft  a  red  flame  leaped 
up  hissing  into  the  night.  Myra  started  and  looked  breath- 
lessly out  into  the  darkness. 

"  It's  only  Jim  Hamilton  —  the  chap  who  has  the  shanty 
opposite,"  the  Englishman  explained.  "  He's  on  the 
borders  of  a  wood,  you  see,  and  he's  afraid  of  bears.  He 
burns  pine  boughs  there,  every  night  he's  alone!  " 

Another  tongue  of  flame  leaped  up,  and  now  they  could 
hear  the  crackling  of  the  burning  branches.  Another  and 
another  followed.  Myra  leaned  forward,  holding  her  breath, 
and  fascinated  for  a  moment  by  the  curious  sight.  Even 
the  man  whose  arm  was  round  her  supple  waist  was  in- 
terested. The  whole  air  was  full  of  that  fitful  yet  brilliant 
light  casting  a  vivid  glow  upon  the  undergrowth  and  down 
into  the  precipice  hung  with  tiny  fir-trees,  and  throwing 
back  strange  lurid  shadows  upon  the  red-trunked  trees  and 
the  dense  blackness  of  the  wood.  Mr.  James  Hamilton 
himself,  who  was  alternately  feeding  and  raking  the  fire 
he  had  kindled,  bathed  in  the  rich  scarlet  glow  became 
almost  a  picturesque  object.   Suddenly,  as  though  conscious 


38  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

of  being  observed,  he  stood  upright  and  turned  towards 
them,  leaning  on  his  shovel,  and  slightly  shading  his  eyes 
with  his  hand. 

A  great  tongue  of  red  fire  scattered  a  thousand  sparks, 
and  leaped  up  into  the  black  night.  For  a  moment  every 
line  and  furrow  in  the  man's  evil  face  stood  revealed.  The 
disclosure  was  startling,  almost  sinister.  Even  the  English- 
man, who  had  sat  opposite  to  the  man  for  months,  shud- 
dered and  turned  away.  For  a  few  seconds  he  forgot  his 
companion.  Then  a  stifled  cry  from  his  side,  and  an  added 
weight  upon  his  arms,  reminded  him  of  her  with  alarm.  He 
caught  her  up  in  his  arms  and  bore  her  to  the  bed.  Her 
face  was  white  and  her  eyes  were  closed.    She  had  fainted. 

And  across  the  gorge,  bathed  in  a  stream  of  red  fire,  Mr. 
James  Hamilton  stood  there  like  a  carved  figure,  with  a 
light  more  brilliant  than  the  flaming  pine  boughs  had  ever 
cast,  blazing  in  his  eyes,  and  a  fire  more  fierce  than  that 
which  had  made  white  ashes  of  the  dry  wood,  burning  in 
his  evil  heart.  Then  he  dropped  his  hand  and  burst  into  a 
hoarse  ringing  laugh,  a  laugh  which  echoed  up  the  gorge 
and  down  the  valley,  and  came  even  to  the  ears  of  the  men 
sitting  in  Dan  Cooper's  store.  One  cursed  the  jackals,  and 
another  spoke  of  wolves.  But  the  laugh  was  the  laugh  of 
Mr.  James  Hamilton. 


CHAPTER  V 

A  HATEFUL  FIGURE   FROM   A  HATEFUL  PAST 

It  was  morning.  As  yet  the  sun  had  gained  no  strength, 
and  though  the  air  above  was  clear  and  bright  with  the 
promise  of  a  glorious  day,  a  mantle  of  hazy  white  mists 
floated  in  the  valley,  and  hung  over  the  tree-tops.  Mr. 
James  Hamilton,  after  throwing  a  careful  glance  around, 
slipped  out  from  his  cabin,  scrambled  down  the  gorge  and 
up  the  opposite  side,  and  walked  softly  along  the  garden 
path  which  led  to  the  shanty. 

The  Englishman  had  gone  to  the  river  —  he  had  watched 
him  go.  Only  his  visitor  was  there.  As  he  approached 
within  a  few  yards  of  the  shanty,  Myra,  who  had  just  risen, 
came  to  the  door  to  watch  the  sun  strike  the  tops  of  the 
distant  Sierras.  Instead,  she  looked  into  the  dark,  evil  face 
of  Mr.  James  Hamilton. 

She  started  back  with  a  little  low  cry.  The  colour  faded 
from  her  cheeks  and  the  glad  light  from  her  eyes.  A  sudden 
faintness  came  over  her.  Sun  and  sky,  wooded  gorge  and 
rolling  plain,  commenced  to  dance  before  her  eyes.  She 
felt  herself  growing  sick  and  numbed  with  horror.  Last 
night  she  had  persuaded  herself  that  it  was  a  delusion.  The 
shadows  and  the  dim  light  had  made  her  fanciful.  But 
here  in  the  clear  morning's  sunshine,  where  every  object 
possessed  even  an  added  vividness,  there  could  be  no  pos- 

39 


40  THE   WORLD'S    GREAT   SNARE 

sibility  of  any  mistake.  The  man  whom  it  had  been  the 
one  fervent  prayer  of  her  life  that  she  might  never  see  again, 
was  face  to  face  with  her  alone  in  these  mountain  solitudes. 

And  he  had  not  changed  —  not  a  whit.  There  was  the 
same  cold,  ugly  smile,  the  same  fiendish  appreciation  of  the 
loathing  which  he  aroused  in  her.  He  took  of!  his  battered 
cap,  and  made  her  a  mock  obeisance. 

"  You  —  here!  "  she  gasped.  She  felt  that  she  must  say 
something.  The  silence  was  intolerable.  It  was  beginning 
to  stifle  her. 

"  You've  hit  it!  "  he  remarked.  "  Did  you  think  I  was 
a  ghost?  Feel!  I'm  flesh  and  blood!  Come  and  feel,  I  say!  " 

He  held  out  his  arms  with  a  gesture  of  coarse  invitation. 
She  shrank  away  with  a  little  cry  which  dropped  into  a 
moan  —  almost  of  physical  pain. 

"  Don't  touch  me!  Don't  dare  to  touch  me!  What  do 
you  want?  " 

Mr.  Hamilton  appeared  hurt.  His  manner  and  his  tone 
implied  that  he  had  expected  a  different  reception. 

"  What  do  I  want?  Come,  I  like  that!  You  don't  mean 
to  tell  me  that  you've  come  to  this  God-forsaken  hole  of  a 
place  after  some  one  else,  eh?  When  I  saw  you  last  night, 
I  thought  at  first  of  coming  right  over  and  claiming  you. 
It's  me  you  came  for,  I  reckon.    Ain't  it,  eh?  " 

Her  eyes  flashed  fire  upon  him. 

"Come  after  you!"  she  repeated,  her  bosom  heaving 
with  pent-up  emotion.  "  Oh,  my  God!  I  would  sooner 
walk  into  my  grave.  To  look  at  you  —  and  remember,  is 
torture !  What  do  you  come  here  for?  How  dare  you  come 
into  my  sight!  " 

He  laughed;  a  low,  sneering  laugh  that  had  little  of 
merriment  in  it. 

"So  it  is  the  Englishman,  is  it?  Now  listen  here,  my 
sweetheart,  and  don't  ruffle  your  pretty  feathers.    If  we 


A   HATEFUL   FIGURE  41 

were  in  San  Francisco,  or  any  place  where  there  was  a 
choice  of  society,  you  could  take  up  with  whom  you  liked 

and  be  d d  to  you;  but  out  here  it's  different!.  You're 

mine,  and  I  mean  to  have  you !  Do  you  hear?   This  blasted 

hole  has  given  me  the  blues.    I'm  lonely,  d d  lonely, 

and  'pon  my  word,  you're  a  devilish  handsome  woman, 
you  know !  It  won't  be  for  long.  I  shall  soon  be  as  tired  of 
you  as  I  was  before,  and  then  you  can  come  back  to  your 
Englishman!  No  nonsense,  you  little  fool!  You  belong  to 
me,  body  and  soul,  and  I'm  going  to  have  you!  " 

She  had  not  been  able  to  attempt  any  escape,  had  any 
been  possible.  The  man's  very  presence  seemed  to  have 
bereft  her  of  all  strength.  She  stood  there  fascinated  with 
the  deep  unspeakable  horror  of  it,  trembling  from  head  to 
foot,  and  miserably  conscious  of  her  own  impotence.  Before 
she  could  recover  herself  his  arms  closed  suddenly  around 
her,  and  his  hot  breath  scorched  her  cheek  as  he  stooped 
down  and  lifted  her  bodily  into  his  arms.  She  gave  one 
despairing  shriek,  and  then  a  cry  of  joy.  There  was  a  slow, 
deliberate  footstep  outside,  and  a  tall  form  stood  upon  the 
threshold.  Mr.  Hamilton  dropped  his  burden,  and  turned 
round  with  a  fierce  oath. 

It  was  Pete  Morrison  who  was  lounging  there,  lank  and 
nonchalant,  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth  and  his  hands  in  his 
pockets. 

"  Hello!  What's  the  shindy!"  he  inquired  good- 
naturedly. 

"  It's  no  affair  of  yours,"  answered  Mr.  Hamilton,  with 
savage  emphasis.  "  Stand  aside  and  let  us  pass,  Pete 
Morrison.  I'm  not  the  man  to  be  trifled  with,  and  I'll  stand 
to  my  word  to-day.  Out  of  my  path,  or  I'll  let  daylight 
into  you,  sure  as  hell!  " 

Pete  Morrison  stood  a  little  on  one  side,  and  blew  a 
volume  of  tobacco  smoke  from  his  mouth. 


42  THE   WORLD'S    GREAT   SNARE 

"  Where's  the  hurry?  "  he  inquired.  "  I  ain't  standing 
in  your  way.  You  may  go  as  fast  as  you  like,  but  I  kinder 
think  you'd  better  leave  the  boy,"  he  added  mildly. 

"  The  boy's  mine.    Clear  the  way,  I  tell  you!  " 

His  hand  stole  down  towards  his  belt.  Quick  as  lightning 
Pete  Morrison's  hand  flashed  out  towards  him. 

"  Hands  up,  Jim." 

Mr.  Hamilton  obeyed  the  order,  and  saved  his  life.  He 
still  looked  into  the  dark  barrel  of  Pete's  revolver,  but  the 
pressure  on  the  trigger  was  relaxed. 

"  Now  look  here,  Jim,"  Pete  Morrison  remarked  calmly. 
"Ill  allow  that  this  ain't  none  of  my  affairs.  I  interfere 
only  as  far  as  this.  While  my  pard's  away,  no  one  don't 
enter  his  shanty,  nor  meddle  with  his  property  —  not  if  I'm 
around,  anyway.  If  this  'ere  boy  belongs  to  you,  come  and 
fetch  him  while  Bryan's  here.  That's  all.  Now  I  reckon 
you'd  better  quit.  You  seem  to  have  scared  the  life  out  of 
the  young  'un." 

Mr.  Hamilton  was  white  with  rage.  He  walked  sullenly 
to  the  door  and  then  turned  round. 

"  Very  well,  Pete.  Your  turn  now,  mine  next.  I'm  off 
to  the  creek.  What  was  it  Dan  Cooper  proposed,  and  Pete 
Robinson  seconded,  eh?  "  he  sneered.    "  No  women  in  this 

'ere  camp.     And  you  and  your  d d  partner  thought 

you'd  make  fools  of  us  all  by  calling  that  a  boy,  eh?  Ha! 
ha!  ha!  We'll  see.  Mark  my  words,  Pete,  my  fine  chap. 
Before  to-morrow's  sun  goes  down,  you'll  be  advertising 
for  a  partner.    Ha!  ha!  " 

He  turned  away.  Suddenly  a  faint  voice  recalled  him. 
Ho  looked  round.  Myra  was  standing  in  the  doorway,  pale 
and  trembling.  She  laid  her  hand  on  Pete  Morrison's  coat- 
sleeve. 

"  Is  that  true?  "  she  whispered  hoarsely.  "  Tell  me 
quick." 


A   HATEFUL   FIGURE  43 

"  Reckon  so,"  Pete  answered  gruffly. 

He  had  done  his  duty  to  his  partner,  but  he  had  no 
friendly  feelings  towards  this  stranger.  She  turned  towards 
Mr.  Hamilton,  who  was  watching  her  with  an  evil  smile. 

"  Will  you  wait  a  little  time  before  you  go  down  and 
tell  them  in  the  camp?  "  she  said,  in  a  dull,  lifeless  tone. 

"  Four-and-twenty  hours,"  he  answered  briefly.  "  If 
you  are  with  me  to-morrow  morning  before  the  sun  touches 
yonder  ridge,  I  am  silent.    If  not  —  you  know." 

He  sprang  down  the  gorge  side  and  disappeared.  Pete 
Morrison  had  also  gone  back  to  his  shanty  without  another 
word  to  the  stranger  whose  presence  he  found  so  unwelcome. 
Myra  was  alone. 

She  sat  down  upon  the  little  bench  and  looked  out  with 
blind,  unseeing  eyes  on  the  sun-smitten  woods  and  the 
valley  still  overhung  with  faint  wreaths  of  fairy-like  mist. 
Alas,  all  their  sweetness  was  gone  for  her.  A  great  black 
shadow  lay  across  it  all.  Shuddering,  she  dared  for  a 
moment  to  glance  back  at  those  awful  days  which  for  years 
she  had  been  striving  to  forget;  days  of  horror,  and  degrada- 
tion, and  sin,  days  almost  of  madness.  She  had  climbed  a 
little  way  out  of  hell,  only  to  be  thrust  back  again  by  the 
same  hand  that  had  dragged  her  down.  She  knew  no  God. 
She  had  no  friend.  There  was  no  way  for  her  to  turn, 
nothing  but  death.  She  stretched  out  her  hand,  and  thrust 
the  small  revolver  which  she  had  brought  with  her  from  San 
Francisco  into  the  bosom  of  her  gown.  She  had  been  very 
near  it  twice  before:  once  when  her  first  trust  had  been 
betrayed,  and  again  in  the  desert  when  gaunt  famine  had 
stared  her  in  the  face.  This  time  it  seemed  to  her  that  death 
would  be  an  easier  thing.  The  man  who  had  shown  her 
the  blackest  and  most  hideous  depths  of  human  depravity 
was  breathing  the  same  air.  Better  death  by  the  slowest 
and  most  awful  tortures  than  that  his  hand  and  hers  should 


44      THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

ever  meet  again  upon  this  earth.  Better  a  hell  of  ever- 
lasting torture  than  such  a  hell  as  this.  She  stretched  out 
her  hand  with  a  convulsive,  dramatic  gesture  towards  the 
little  brown  shanty  on  the  other  side  of  the  gorge,  and  her 
lips  moved  in  an  unspoken  oath.  The  sweet,  sharp  air 
into  which  she  looked  was  rent  by  the  single  word  which 
burst  from  her  tightly-compressed  lips:  "  Never!  " 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  DESIRE   OF  THE   WORLD 

Soon  after  eight  o'clock,  the  Englishman,  with  his  spade 
over  his  shoulder,  and  the  perspiration  streaming  from  his 
face,  came  toiling  up  the  gorge,  all  unconscious  of  the  fact 
that  he  was  being  watched  by  three  people.  Mr.  Hamilton, 
duly  prepared  for  any  little  unpleasantness  that  might  take 
place,  was  skulking  in  the  dark  interior  of  his  shanty,  with  a 
long  knife  in  his  belt,  and  his  revolver  on  the  table  before 
him.  He  had  no  intention  of  going  down  to  work  until  he 
saw  what  was  to  be  the  result  of  his  morning's  expedition. 
In  public  he  felt  that  any  contest  between  the  Englishman 
and  himself  would  have  to  be  conducted  according  to  the 
camp's  notions  of  fair  play.  Here,  on  the  contrary,  he 
would  have  full  advantage  of  certain  methods  known  only 
to  himself  and  in  which  by  frequent  practice  he  had  at- 
tained a  singular  proficiency.  So  he  sat  smoking  his  pipe, 
and  watching  the  tall,  stalwart  figure  climbing  up  the 
valley,  with  a  grim  smile  on  his  dark  face. 

There  were  two  others  who  watched  his  progress.  Pete 
Morrison,  who  stood  at  the  door  of  his  cabin,  equipped  for 
the  day's  toil,  and  ready  to  start  off  and  take  his  place;  and 
Myra,  who  was  of  the  three  certainly  the  most  anxious. 
Directly  she  saw  Pete  Morrison  step  out  as  though  to  inter- 
cept his  partner,  she  hurried  forward  to  the  edge  of  the 

45 


46      THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

gorge,  and  waved  both  her  hands  to  hasten  him  on.  If  she 
had  felt  sure  of  her  footing,  she  would  have  scrambled  down 
to  meet  him.  Anything  to  have  reached  him  first  —  any- 
thing to  prevent  the  knowledge  of  the  morning's  adventure 
reaching  him  from  any  one  else  save  herself. 

She  took  one  step  down  the  gorge,  steadying  herself  with 
a  low-hanging  alder  bough.  The  Englishman  saw  her, 
and  waved  her  back. 

"  Hold  on!  "  he  cried,  in  surprise.    "  I'm  coming!  " 

"  Hurry,  then!"  she  called  back.  "  Breakfast  is  just 
spoilt!" 

Pete,  too,  had  taken  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and  seemed 
about  to  address  his  partner,  now  immediately  below  him. 
At  the  sound  of  the  girl's  voice,  however,  he  paused  and 
glanced  up  to  the  broad  green  platform  on  which  she  was 
standing,  her  hair  waving  in  the  breeze,  and  her  slim  figure 
clearly  outlined  against  the  blue  sky.  He  was  too  far  away 
to  read  her  expression,  but  something  in  her  voice  and  her 
quick,  anxious  glance  in  his  direction  struck  him  curiously. 
He  checked  his  forward  movement,  and  contented  himself 
with  a  gruff  good-morning,  as  the  Englishman  passed  on 
below,  and  commenced  to  scramble  up  the  gorge. 

"  Going  down,  Pete?  "  he  called  out. 

"  Right  away!  "  was  the  brief  reply. 

"  Hold  on  a  bit!" 

He  lounged  forward  to  meet  his  partner,  who  was  scram- 
bling up  towards  him.  During  the  interval  of  his  waiting, 
he  glanced  up  to  where  the  girl  was  watching  the  two  men, 
in  a  manner  which  he  meant  to  be  reassuring. 

"  She'll  tell  him  right  enough,"  he  reflected.  "  Guess 
she'll  try  and  smooth  it  down.  Just  as  lief  she  would! 
Hullo,  mate,  what's  up?  "  he  added  aloud. 

The  Englishman's  face  was  all  aglow.  He  had  something 
tightly  clenched  in  his  left  hand,  and  after  a  quick  glance 


THE    DESIRE    OF   THE    WORLD  47 

around,  he  held  it  out  towards  his  partner,  and  slowly 
unclasped  his  fingers.  Even  Pete  Morrison's  set  features 
relaxed  for  once.  A  gleam  of  enthusiasm  shone  in  his  hard 
face.  Then  he  glanced  suspiciously  over  towards  Mr. 
Hamilton's  abode. 

"  Keep  it  snug!  "  he  said  coolly.  "  I  ain't  seen  Jim  go 
down  this  morning,  and  I'd  just  as  lief  he  didn't  know  of 
this,  yet.    Any  more?  " 

"  Heaps !  More  in  my  pockets.    It's  the  biggest  find  yet !  " 

Pete  Morrison  looked  away  for  a  moment,  and  his  coat- 
sleeve  brushed  across  his  eyes.  He  had  turned  towards  the 
Blue  Hills,  but  he  saw  only  a  woman's  worn,  pale  face,  thin 
and  harassed,  yet  with  a  soft,  pleasant  light  in  the  keen 
gray  eyes.    It  was  gone  almost  directly. 

"I  was  thinking  —  of  my  old  woman!"  he  remarked 
apologetically.    "  It  seems  kinder  hard!  " 

The  Englishman  made  a  gesture  as  though  to  stretch  out 
his  hand.    Pete  stopped  him. 

"  Thank'ee,  mate!"  he  said  hurriedly.  "  We  won't 
shake.  I  guess  that  Jim's  watching  us  from  yonder.  He's 
a  bad  lot,  is  Jim  —  a  cursed  bad  lot!  " 

The  other  nodded  silently,  and  they  separated.  Pete 
shouldered  his  spade,  and  after  one  more  doubtful  glance 
at  the  slim  figure  watching  them  so  earnestly  from  the 
summit,  slouched  off.  Myra  watched  him  with  relief.  He 
had  not  told.  A  single  glance  in  the  Englishman's  face  was 
sufficient  to  assure  her  of  that. 

"  Hungry,  little  woman? "  he  cried  out  cheerfully, 
throwing  down  the  spade,  and  drawing  her  into  the  shanty. 
"  Come  inside,  and  hear  some  news!  " 

He  pulled  the  door  to  after  them,  and  drawing  her  pale 
face  up  to  his,  kissed  her  once  or  twice. 

"You've  brought  us  luck,  after  all,  you  little  puss!" 
he  said  heartily.     "  Sit  down  and  give  me  my  break- 


48  THE  WORLD'S   GREAT  SNARE 

fast.  I  want  to  be  off  back  at  work.  Look  at  that  first, 
though!" 

He  held  out  his  left  hand,  and  she  saw  a  lump  of  dull 
brown  metal  here  and  there  glittering  brightly.  She 
balanced  it  in  her  fingers  and  gave  it  back  to  him. 

"  Is  it  gold?  "  she  asked,  half-fearfully. 

"  Gold !  Ay,  to  be  sure  it  is,"  he  answered,  "  and  gold  such 
as  hasn't  been  found  hereabouts  yet.  There's  more,  too, 
heaps  more  —  piles  and  piles  of  it.  My  God !  To  think  of 
its  coming  so  suddenly  as  I  was  on  the  point  of  giving  up ! 
It's  wonderful!" 

He  was  standing  up  in  the  centre  of  the  hut,  his  eyes 
gleaming,  and  his  whole  face  lit  up.  The  fever  of  the  thing 
was  upon  him.  After  so  much  useless  toil,  success  such  as 
this  was  intoxicating.  His  companion's  apathy  amazed 
him. 

"  Don't  you  understand,  Myra?  "  he  exclaimed,  passing 
his  arm  around  her.  "  We're  going  to  be  rich,  going  to 
have  heaps  and  heaps  of  money.  This  little  brown  nugget 
here,"  he  went  on,  touching  it  enthusiastically,  "  means  the 
key  to  another  world.  It  means  diamonds  and  Paris  dresses 
and  a  carriage  for  you,  and  for  me,  more  than  all  that! 
For  me " 

He  stopped  abruptly.  A  dark  shade  had  stolen  into  his 
face;  the  light  had  died  away.  It  was  several  moments 
before  he  spoke  again. 

"  Yes,  it  means  more  than  all  that  for  me!  "  he  added 
quietly.  "  It  shall  mean  it.  With  this  gold  to  aid  me,  I 
shall  succeed.  Come,  Myra,  breakfast!  I  must  be  off 
again!  " 

He  ate  and  drank  heartily,  but  a  curious  abstraction 
seemed  to  have  settled  down  upon  him.  Every  now  and 
then  he  muttered  to  himself.  Myra  watched  him  with 
tears  in  her  eyes.    He  was  taking  no  notice  of  her  whatever. 


THE   DESIRE   OF  THE   WORLD  49 

Her  heart  was  aching  to  tell  him  everything;  to  creep  into 
his  arms,  and  sob  out  her  miserable  story.  And  then  a  chill 
stole  into  her  blood  and  through  her  veins.  If  they  sent  her 
away  she  would  have  to  go  alone.  Now  that  they  had  at 
last  found  gold,  all  chance  of  his  leaving  with  her  was  gone. 
Perhaps  he  would  be  angry  when  he  heard  that  she  had  been 
discovered,  that  those  rough  men  who  had  constituted 
themselves  the  moral  guardians  of  the  camp  were  to  be 
appealed  to,  that  she  might  be  driven  out.  Perhaps  — 
but,  no,  she  would  not  dream  for  a  moment  of  anything  so 
horrible  as  that.  He  would  never  dare  to  suggest  her  com- 
promising in  any  way  with  the  man  who  had  discovered 
her.  He  had  been  rough  to  her  sometimes,  but  he  was  a 
man  —  he  would  not  do  that!  Oh,  if  only  she  could  fall  at 
his  feet  and  tell  him  everything.  Her  brain  was  dizzy  and 
tired  with  horrible  imaginings,  and  her  heart  was  sick  with 
fears  and  memories.  She  looked  into  his  face  with  despair- 
ing longing;  if  only  he  would  look  at  her  he  must  see  the 
trouble  she  was  in.  But  it  was  hopeless.  He  was  almost 
unconscious  of  her  presence.  His  sudden  good  fortune 
seemed  to  have  awakened  a  train  of  memories  completely 
and  absolutely  absorbing.  She  watched  him  in  mute 
despair  as  he  rose,  lit  his  pipe,  and  prepared  to  go.  Yet 
she  must  say  something  before  he  left  her.  He  must  know, 
at  any  rate,  of  the  morning's  adventure.  If  she  did  not 
tell  him,  Pete  Morrison  would. 

"Bryan!"  she  began  hesitatingly.  He  turned  sharply 
around.  He  had  been  about  to  leave  the  place  without  even 
bidding  her  good-bye. 

"  What  is  it,  Myra?  " 

"  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  for  a  few  minutes.  Are  you 
in  a  great  hurry?  " 

"  Of  course  I  am,"  he  answered  impatiently.  "  What- 
ever it  is,  to-night  must  do !  I  can't  stop  now." 


50  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

She  tried  to  speak  again,  but  the  words  died  away  upon 
her  lips.  Before  she  could  recover  herself,  he  was  gone. 
She  listened  to  his  long,  swinging  steps  as  he  strode  away 
and  disappeared  over  the  gorge  side.  Even  then  she  could 
scarcely  believe  it.  She  stood  just  as  he  had  left  her,  white 
to  the  lips,  and  nervously  clasping  and  unclasping  her 
fingers.  Gone  with  never  a  word  or  a  glance  to  comfort 
her!  For  the  whole  day  she  must  remain  alone,  alone  with 
this  hideous  ghostly  stock  of  memories  to  bear  her  company, 
and  this  precipice,  deep  and  black,  still  yawning  at  her  feet. 
It  was  too  much. 

The  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens  when  she  opened  her 
eyes.  She  had  fallen  across  the  floor  face  downwards,  and 
the  blood  from  a  slight  cut  in  the  temple  had  dried  upon  her 
face.  She  staggered  to  her  feet,  and  looked  half-fearfully 
around.  She  was  alone.  There  were  no  signs  of  any  one 
having  been  in.  Presently,  she  fetched  a  pail  of  water  and 
bathed  her  face,  arranged  her  disordered  hair,  and  sat  down 
at  the  door. 

Below  in  the  valley  there  was  a  little  hum  of  excitement. 
The  news  of  a  great  find  had  spread  like  wildfire,  and  every 
one  was  working  with  feverish  energy.  She  could  see  the 
dark  figures  all  crowded  together  near  the  lucky  claim, 
and  now  and  then  she  could  hear  some  hoarse  murmurings 
of  many  voices.  A  new  thought  worked  itself  into  her  dull 
brain.  Perhaps,  in  this  great  wave  of  excitement,  they 
would  let  her  alone,  and  he  would  not  be  able  to  carry  out 
his  threat.  She  had  done  nobody  any  harm;  perhaps  they 
would  not  turn  her  out  after  all.  Gradually,  she  worked 
herself  into  a  state,  if  not  of  cheerfulness,  at  least  of  some 
hope.  She  got  up  and  tidied  the  place,  made  herself  a  cup 
of  tea,  and  some  faint  vestige  of  her  natural  light-hearted- 
ness  reasserting  itself,  she  began  even  to  sing.    She  had  not 


THE    DESIRE    OF   THE   WORLD  51 

much  fear  of  another  visit  from  Mr.  Hamilton,  for  she  knew 
him  well  enough  to  guess  what  the  effect  of  the  gold  find 
would  be  upon  him.  He  would  work  for  awhile,  at  any  rate. 
She  could  picture  him  to  herself,  half-naked,  and  covered 
with  dirt  and  sweat,  digging  with  feverish  energy,  and 
cursing  through  his  white  teeth  at  every  empty  spadeful 
he  flung  up.  Until  night,  at  least,  she  would  be  safe  from 
him. 

The  afternoon  stole  on,  and  as  the  heat  seemed  to  grow 
fiercer  rather  than  to  decrease,  she  flung  herself  down  upon 
the  bed,  and  closed  her  eyes.  How  long  she  slept  she  could 
scarcely  tell,  but  she  suddenly  woke  up  with  a  start.  She 
found  herself  trembling  in  every  limb.  All  the  old  terror 
was  back  again.  She  knew  that  it  was  no  idle  start  which 
found  herself  trembling  in  every  limb.  All  the  old  terror 
had  awakened  her  so  suddenly.  She  was  not  alone.  Across 
the  floor  on  which  her  startled  eyes  were  riveted,  was  the 
long,  dark  shadow  of  a  man. 


CHAPTER  VII 

A  YOUNG  MAN   FROM  THE   EAST 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  young  lady.  I  am  sorry  to  intrude, 
but  as  this  is  the  first  sign  of  a  habitation  I've  seen  for  sev- 
eral days,  I  took  the  liberty  of  looking  in.  I'm  sorry  to 
have  disturbed  your  siesta." 

The  voice  was  a  strange  one.  The  new-comer  was 
certainly  not  the  man  of  whose  intrusion  she  was  in  such 
abject  dread,  nor  was,  apparently,  any  one  from  the  camp 
below.    She  rose  to  her  feet  and  faced  him. 

"  Won't  you  come  in  and  sit  down?  "  she  said. 

He  staggered  rather  than  walked  to  the  bench,  and  sank 
down  with  a  little  exclamation  of  relief.  He  was  evidently 
completely  exhausted.  She  poured  out  some  brandy  into  a 
cup  and  gave  it  to  him.  He  almost  snatched  it  from  her 
fingers,  and  drained  it  to  the  last  drop.  Then  he  sat  up,  and 
a  little  colour  began  to  creep  into  his  cheeks.  Myra  looked 
at  him  curiously. 

"  Had  a  rough  time?  "  she  inquired.    "  Are  you  hungry?  " 

He  shook  his  head  and  pointed  down  into  the  valley. 

"  I  have  a  donkey  —  I  mean  a  mule  —  down  there,"  he 
explained.  "  Plenty  of  provisions,  but  nothing  to  drink. 
I've  come  all  the  way  from  San  Francisco,"  he  continued. 
"  What  a  journey!  No  roads,  and  not  a  single  inn!  " 

She  laughed  gaily. 

52 


A   YOUNG   MAN   FROM   THE   EAST  53 

"  Why,  you  didn't  expect  hotels  all  along  the  track,  did 
you?  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Seems  to  me  that  you're  not  used 
to  this  sort  of  country.    Where  are  you  from?  " 

He  leaned  forward,  his  hands  upon  his  knees,  an  odd 
little  figure  with  sallow,  cunning  face,  and  little  bright  eyes 
set  a  good  deal  too  close  together.  Myra  was  not  in  the 
least  afraid  of  him.  She  could  have  lifted  him  up  and 
thrown  him  out  of  the  shanty  with  the  utmost  ease. 

"  My  dear  young  lady,"  he  said  deliberately,  "  you  have 
exactly  hit  it.  I  am  not  used  to  this  sort  of  country,  and  I 
don't  mind  telling  you  that  I  never  should  get  used  to  it. 
I  don't  like  it,  and  I  don't  like  the  people.  Now  I  appeal 
to  you,"  he  continued,  waving  his  hand,  and  leaning  back 
on  the  bench  with  his  legs  crossed,  "  I  appeal  to  you,  young 
lady,  as  an  impartial  and  unprejudiced  witness.  I  come 
over  to  San  Francisco  from  —  never  mind  from  where,  but 
I  come  over  to  get  gold.  I  am  a  perfect  stranger  to  the 
country,  the  people,  and  their  customs.  Gold  seeking  being 
my  mission,  as  it  were,  I  desired  naturally  to  associate  with 
—  er — people  of  that  profession,  or,  at  any  rate,  people  who 
knew  something  about  it.  For  that  purpose  I  frequented  a 
restaurant  entitled  the  '  Cafe  Jose/  at  the  back  of  Seventh 
Avenue.    Perhaps  you  know  the  place?  " 

A  slight  shudder  passed  through  the  girl's  whole  body. 
She  looked  at  the  stranger  with  suddenly  reawakened 
suspicion.  What  did  he  mean  by  coming  here  and  talking 
to  her  of  the  "  Cafe  Jose?  "  He  returned  her  gaze,  however, 
with  as  much  openness  as  could  be  expected  from  a  man 
with  such  a  physiognomy.  The  fierce,  searching  light  of  the 
girl's  black  eyes  seemed  to  surprise  him  a  little.  That  was 
all. 

"  I  have  heard  of  it,"  she  said  shortly,  seeing  that  he 
waited  for  some  response  from  her. 

"  Just  so.    Well,  at  that  place  I  met  a  man  who  professed 


54  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

to  understand  the  whole  rigmarole  of  gold-digging.  We 
talked  of  it  every  night  for  a  week.  He  was  going  to  start 
himself  almost  directly,  it  seemed.  He  was  just  waiting 
for  some  money  to  come  in  for  stores,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing.    I  ain't  boring  you,  am  I?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  answered,  starting  at  his  abrupt  ques- 
tion.   "  Go  on." 

"  Just  so.  Well,  the  long  and  short  of  it  is,  that  we 
arranged  a  partnership.  He  was  to  purchase  tools,  stores, 
and  everything  that  was  necessary,  and  I  was  to  plank  down 
the  brass.    See?" 

"  Perfectly,"  she  answered,  smiling.    "  It's  very  simple." 

"  Lord!  I  was  the  simple,"  he  groaned.  "  Ten  days  ago 
we  left  San  Francisco  on  donkeys  —  I  mean  mules,  and  I 
don't  mind  telling  you,  though  I  never  let  on  to  that  chap, 
I'd  never  been  on  the  back  of  any  animal  before  in  my  life, 
except  a  Margate  donkey  for  about  two  minutes.  But,  I 
forgot,  you  don't  know  what  a  Margate  donkey  is,  of  course. 
Whew!  how  I  did  suffer,  and  how  that  chap  did  laugh! 
We  had  an  animal  apiece,  and  another  one  to  carry  the 
stores  and  a  tent,  and  our  tools.  Well  —  but  I  ain't  told 
you  about  my  dream  yet,  have  I?  " 

"  I  guess  not,"  she  admitted. 

"  Well,  one  night,  night  after  I  got  to  San  Francisco,  I 
dreamed  that  I  was  picking  up  gold  as  fast  as  I  could  lay 
my  hands  on  it,  lumps  and  heaps  of  it,  all  big  and  glittering. 
Well,  there  warn't  anything  odd  in  my  dreaming  that,  with 
my  mind  all  running  on  gold-diggings,  but  I'm  blowed  if  I 
didn't  dream  the  very  name  of  the  place.  It  was  the  Blue 
River  valley." 

She  looked  up. 

"  That's  where  you  are  now,"  she  remarked. 

"Worse  luck!"  he  answered  gloomily.  "Well,  I  told 
this  chap  I'd  fallen  in  with,  when  I  heard  that  there  was 


A   YOUNG   MAN    FROM   THE   EAST  55 

such  a  place,  that  the  Blue  River  valley  was  the  spot  that 
I'd  made  up  my  mind  for.  He  tried  all  he  knew  to  dissuade 
me.  There's  a  place  called  Christopher's  Creek  he  was  sweet 
on,  and  that  was  where  he  wanted  to  go.  However,  when 
he  saw  that  I  warn't  to  be  moved,  he  gave  in,  and  we  started 
for  here." 

"  Where  is  he  now?  You  said  you  were  alone,  didn't 
you?  "  she  asked. 

"  In  hell,  I  hope!  "  he  snapped  viciously.  "  Beg  pardon. 
I'm  a  peaceful  man  —  perhaps  because  there  ain't  size 
enough  about  me  for  fighting  —  but  it  does  make  my  blood 
boil  when  I  think  of  that  chap.  We'd  been  six  days  out 
when  we  came  to  a  place  where  the  track  forked  out  into 
two.  All  of  a  sudden  he  pulls  his  mule  up  short,  and  whips 
out  a  revolver.  I  thought  he'd  gone  mad,  but  I  warn't 
going  to  sit  still  to  be  shot  at,  so  off  I  jumped  and  got 
behind  my  donkey.  Lord,  you  should  have  heard  him 
laugh ! 

"  '  Look  'ere,  matey,'  he  says, '  you're  about  the  queerest 
pard  I  ever  took  up  with,  and  I've  had  about  enough  of  you. 
You  reckon  you  want  to  go  to  the  Blue  River  valley,  don't 
you?  Well,  there's  your  trail  straight  ahead,  and  if  you 
lose  it,  why,  make  for  that  mountain  there,  and  you're  all 
right.  I'm  off  to  Christopher's  Creek,  and  I  guess  we  part 
here.' 

"  '  What  about  my  stores,  and  my  tools,  and  my  don- 
key? '  I  cried  out,  for  he  was  leading  the  spare  animal,  and 
had  got  the  rope  round  his  wrist.  '  If  you're  going  to  leave 
me  here,  give  up  my  property.'  " 

"  What  did  he  say  to  that?  "  asked  the  girl,  biting  her 
lip. 

"  Say?  He  didn't  say  much,  but  you  should  have  heard 
him  laugh.  He  stuck  his  great  brawny  fists  in  his  sides, 
and  leaned  back  on  his  donkey,  yelling.    Presently  he  wiped 


56     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

his  eyes,  and  undoing  one  of  our  packages,  he  tossed  me 
some  tins  and  a  pound  of  biscuits. 

"  '  Here  you  are/  he  shouted.  '  This'll  keep  the  life  in 
your  ugly  little  carcase  till  you  get  to  Blue  River,'  and  with 
that  he  hitched  up,  kicked  his  donkey,  and  rode  off,  laugh- 
ing till  you'd  have  thought  he'd  have  burst.  What  do  you 
think  of  that  for  villainy,  eh?  "  he  asked,  his  little  eyes 
twinkling  fiercely.  "  Rode  off  with  my  mules,  my  stores, 
my  everything.  Why,  even  the  clothes  that  were  on  his 
back  were  mine,  bought  and  paid  for  with  my  money,  and 
he  made  me  change  donkeys  with  him  just  before,  so  that 
he  should  leave  me  with  the  worst.    Damn  him!  " 

Myra  looked  at  him  in  half  contemptuous  sympathy.  He 
was  surely  the  strangest  little  animal  who  had  ever  wan- 
dered into  this  great  western  world,  where  every  man  must 
fight  his  own  battle,  and  be  ready  to  fight  it  at  any  moment 
and  in  any  place.  His  sallow,  pallid  little  face,  set  with 
dark,  ferret-like  eyes,  was  surmounted  by  a  shock  of  black, 
unkempt  hair.  He  wore  a  black  tail-coat,  travel-stained 
and  devoid  of  buttons,  the  trousers  and  boots  of  a  city 
clerk,  and  a  linen  shirt  and  crushed  dirty  collar.  He  was 
like  a  parasite  of  the  town.  Certainly  he  had  no  place  in 
this  great  open  country,  where  men  needed  hearts  and 
muscles  of  iron,  and  rejoiced  in  a  stalwart  independence. 
She  had  lost  all  her  distrust  in  him  —  it  was  merged  in 
contempt.  Surely  no  one  would  be  so  mean  and  debased 
a  thing  as  to  invent  such  a  story  as  he  had  told.  At  his 
own  reckoning  he  must  be  accepted  as  a  miserable  little 
coward  without  mind  or  muscle.  What  was  to  become  of 
him  out  here? 

She  put  her  thoughts  into  words. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  now  you  are  here,  without 
tools  or  anything?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  don't  know! "  he  answered,  standing  up  and  stretch- 


A   YOUNG   MAN    FROM   THE   EAST  57 

ing  himself.  "  I've  got  a  little  money  left  —  just  a  little. 
I  may  buy  a  share  in  a  claim.  Is  that  where  they  work, 
down  there?  " 

He  had  strolled  to  the  door,  and  was  looking  down  into 
the  valley,  where  the  sounds  of  toil  and  hoarse  voices  were 
growing  fainter.  She  looked  over  his  shoulder  with  ease, 
and  nodded. 

"  Yes;  all  round  the  bed  of  the  old  river,"  she  answered. 
"  They're  about  through  for  the  day,  now.  Guess  you'd 
better  go  down  and  see -after  some  quarters,  unless  you're 
going  to  camp  out!" 

"  Not  for  me!  "  he  declared  fervently.  "  I've  had  about 
enough  of  that.  If  money  can  buy  it,  I'll  sleep  upon  a  bed 
to-night!" 

"  You  won't  find  much  in  the  shape  of  a  bed  down 
yonder,"  she  remarked  listlessly.  Her  interest  in  this  odd 
little  morsel  of  humanity  had  vanished.  It  was  getting 
near  the  time  for  the  Englishman  to  return.  Very  soon  her 
fate  would  be  decided.  It  was  strange  to  think  that  her 
eyes  might  never  see  the  morning  break  again.  She  would 
surely  die  rather  than  give  herself  into  his  hands  again. 
She  did  not  hesitate  about  that  for  a  moment.  Then  she 
turned  her  face  towards  the  great  rolling  plain.  The 
memory  of  those  awful  days  and  nights  rushed  in  upon  her. 
Better  death  than  .to  face  such  again  —  alone!  If  she  was 
driven  out,  it  should  be  to  die! 

"  Well,  I'm  off!  "  remarked  a  sharp  voice  at  her  ear.  "  I 
say!" 

She  glanced  down  quickly.  The  stranger  was  still  stand- 
ing by  her  side. 

"  Yes?  " 

"  Odd  thing  it  would  be,  wouldn't  it,  if  I  was  to  drop 
across  a  pal  in  this  God-forsaken  corner  of  the  earth !  Know 
the  names  of  any  of  these  chaps  here?  " 


58  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT  SNARE 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  suppose  they  have  names!  "  she  remarked.  "  They 
don't  use  them  much  out  here,  though.  They  call  one 
another  anything!  " 

She  chanced  to  look  at  him  as  she  finished  her  speech. 
His  bead-like  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her,  all  alight  with  a 
keen  inquisitiveness.    He  withdrew  them  at  once. 

"  Well,  I  should  soon  find  them  out,  working  amongst 
them,"  he  declared  cheerfully.  "  There  are  quite  a  lot  of 
chaps  I've  knocked  up  against  at  different  times,  who  said 
they  were  coming  out  this  way.  Let  me  see;  there  was 
Churcher  —  George  Churcher,  and  Bill  Dyson,  and  that  fel- 
low Richardson  I  met  on  the  boat.  Ay!  and  Dick  Jen- 
kins and  that  other  chap  —  what's  his  name?  —  Maurice 
Huntly." 

She  caught  hold  of  the  side  of  the  door,  and  shuddered. 
Through  the  fast  gathering  gloom,  she  could  see  his  black 
glittering  eyes  fixed  steadfastly  upon  her. 

"  There  is  a  man  here  who  used  to  call  himself  Huntly," 
she  remarked,  looking  down  the  valley.  ' '  That's  his  shanty, 
opposite!  " 

"  Live  alone?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  About  thirty  years  old.  Short  and  stout;  very  fair 
and  squints.    Eh?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  No;  he's  tall  and  dark,  and  I  don't  think  there's  any- 
thing the  matter  with  his  eyes." 

He  scratched  his  chin,  and  appeared  disappointed. 

"  Ain't  the  same,"  he  remarked.  "  Didn't  see  how  it 
could  be.  The  man  I  mean  was  the  least  likely  to  be  here 
of  all  the  lot.  He  got  married  last  year.  Lord,  how  dark 
it's  getting!   Good  evening  to  you,  my  dear.    I  shouldn't 


A   YOUNG   MAN   FROM   THE   EAST  59 

be  in  no  hurry,  I  can  tell  you,  if  I  knew  my  way  down  that 
confounded  hill  a  bit  better.    Ta  —  ta!  " 

He  leered  into  her  face  without  apparently  noticing  the 
gesture  of  disgust  with  which  she  turned  away  from  him. 
Then  he  scrambled  on  to  the  level,  and  mounting  the  mule 
which  was  browsing  calmly  by  the  wayside,  he  rode  off 
awkwardly  enough  down  the  canon.  Once  he  tried  to  turn 
round  to  wave  his  hand,  and  very  nearly  lost  his  seat.  The 
girl  took  no  notice.  She  was  standing  there,  straight  and 
rigid,  waiting  for  her  doom. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  CORNER  OF  THE   CURTAIN 

The  men  were  late  coming  from  their  work  that  evening. 
The  twilight  was  merging  into  darkness,  and  a  few  fireflies 
were  commencing  to  dart  about  in  the  valley,  when  she 
heard  their  voices  approaching.  The  Englishman  and  Pete 
Morrison  stood  talking  for  several  moments  at  the  door  of 
the  latter's  dwelling,  but  though  she  strained  her  ears,  she 
could  not  catch  any  part  of  their  conversation.  Presently, 
she  heard  a  brief  good-night  pass  between  them,  and  the 
Englishman's  massive  figure  came  towering  through  the 
darkness.  She  stepped  back  into  the  shanty,  put  the  lamp 
on  trie  table  where  his  supper  was  carefully  spread,  and 
stood  waiting  for  him  with  beating  heart.  There  was 
nothing  more  she  could  do.  She  had  put  on  the  gown 
which  she  had  jealously  carried  with  her  through  all  those 
days  of  toil  and  misery,  and  she  had  done  her  rich  hair  in 
the  manner  he  liked  best.  Everything  inside  the  shanty 
was  as  neat  and  tidy  and  clean  as  it  could  be  made.  She 
stood  there  waiting,  her  eyes  soft  with  unshed  tears,  and  the 
colour  coming  and  going  in  her  cheeks.  She  could  even 
hear  her  heart  beating  underneath  her  dress.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  her  fate  would  be  written  in  his  face. 

He  flung  open  the  door  of  the  shanty  and  entered, 
stooping  low.    When  he  drew  himself  up,  she  was  unable  to 

60 


A   CORNER   OF   THE   CURTAIN  61 

decide  immediately  whether  his  countenance  was  favourable 
or  not.  He  nodded  to  her  kindly,  but  in  an  abstracted 
manner,  and  —  he  did  not  seem  to  notice  her  gown.  Her 
lip  quivered  pitifully. 

"  You're  late,  Bryan,"  she  said.  "  Your  supper's  all 
ready." 

She  came  and  stood  over  by  his  side.  He  put  his  arm 
around  her  waist  and  kissed  her. 

"  You're  a  regular  little  Englishwoman,"  he  declared, 
glancing  round.  "  Shouldn't  have  thought  that  you'd  have 
been  up  to  roughing  it  like  this.  By  Jove,  Myra,  how  hand- 
some you  are! " 

He  held  her  out  at  arm's  length  and  looked  at  her.  The 
soft  colour  glowed  in  her  cheeks,  and  her  eyes  flashed  with 

joy- 

"  Am  I?  "  she  whispered.  "  Guess  I  like  you  to  think 
so." 

He  looked  at  her  steadily,  and  a  cloud  passed  over  his 
face.  He  was  thinking  of  the  future,  nearer  than  ever  it 
seemed  to-night,  when  the  day  of  their  parting  must  come. 
What  would  become  of  her;  what  manner  of  life  was  there 
in  which  she  could  find  happiness,  and  keep  herself  from 
sinking  deeper  into  the  slough  from  the  borders  of  which  he 
had  snatched  her?  That  very  beauty,  which  it  seemed  to 
him  that  until  then  he  had  never  properly  appreciated, 
now  all  the  more  glorious  for  its  pitiful  surroundings, 
troubled  him.  It  was  too  fair  a  thing  to  be  coupled  with 
a  tarnished  life. 

"  Well,  let's  have  supper,"  he  said  suddenly.  "  I  had 
a  huge  wash  in  the  river,  and  I've  an  appetite,  I  can  tell 
you." 

They  sat  down  together.  Her  relief  was  too  great  for 
her  to  eat.  But  suddenly  a  cold  chill  ran  through  her 
blood.    Her  heart  sank.    Supposing  Pete  had  not,  after 


62  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

all,  mentioned  the  morning's  adventure?  He  happened 
to  be  looking  at  her,  and  he  noticed  the  change  in  her 
countenance. 

"  What's  up,  Myra?  "  he  inquired,  setting  down  the  tin 
pannikin  which  he  had  been  in  the  act  of  lifting  to  his  lips. 
"  Seen  a  ghost?  " 

She  looked  at  him,  and  suddenly  leaned  forward.  "  Has 
Pete  Morrison  told  you  about  this  morning?  "  she  asked 
breathlessly. 

He  frowned  and  went  on  with  his  supper. 

"  Yes.  That  beast  Jim  came  up  and  frightened  you, 
didn't  he?  We've  been  too  hard  at  work  to  talk  much,  and 
Pete  isn't  much  of  a  hand  at  a  yarn.  I'd  like  to  hear  you 
tell  me  just  what  happened." 

She  stood  up  and  locked  her  hands  nervously  in  one 
another. 

"  Yes,  I  want  to  tell  you,"  she  said.  "  I  want  to  tell  you 
very  much.  You've  never  heard  how  it  was  that  I  became 
—  what  I  am.    I  should  like  to  tell  you." 

She  was  very  pale,  but  a  dull  red  spot  was  blazing  in 
either  cheek.  Her  bosom  was  heaving  and  her  breath  was 
coming  sharply.  The  Englishman  moved  uneasily  in  his 
chair.  He  hated  a  scene,  and  the  girl's  agitation  dis- 
tressed him. 

"No!  I  wouldn't  talk  about  it,  Myra,"  he  said.  "I 
know  that  it  wasn't  your  fault,  of  course." 

She  shook  her  head.  "  I  must  tell  you  a  little  —  not  all. 
I  shan't  make  a  long  story  of  it.  My  father  was  a  timber 
man  on  the  Mellin  River,  about  a  hundred  miles  from  San 
Francisco.  I  lived  with  him,  and  I  hated  it.  I  had  no 
mother,  no  sisters  or  brothers.  One  day  he  died,  and  I  was 
alone  in  the  world.  I  went  to  try  and  find  an  aunt  in  San 
Francisco.  I  was  about  sixteen  then.  She  was  very  poor, 
and  very  cruel  to  me;  but  I  shared  her  roof,  and  I  worked 


A   CORNER   OF   THE   CURTAIN  63 

as  a  waitress  at  a  restaurant.  There  was  a  young  man  who 
came  there,  who  offered  to  marry  me.  I  was  utterly  miser- 
able, and  I  agreed  at  once.  I  cared  nothing  for  him,  and 
told  him  so.  He  did  not  mind;  he  wanted  me,  anyhow. 
So  I  married  him.  In  three  days  I  left  him.  He  told  me 
that  he  had  another  wife  alive,  that  our  marriage  was  only 
a  sham ;  and  when  I  declared  that  I  should  leave  him,  that 
very  instant,  he  tried  to  beat  me. 

"  I  went  to  my  aunt.  She  turned  me  away  with  an  oath. 
Then  I  took  another  situation.  In  a  week  or  two  he  found 
me  out.  He  begged  me  to  go  back.  I  refused.  He  left  me 
money.  I  threw  it  at  him.  He  did  not  break  into  oaths, 
as  I  had  expected,  but  he  went  away  quietly.  He  sent  me 
money  through  the  post.  I  would  not  use  it.  He  came  back 
again,  and  threw  himself  at  my  feet,  imploring  me  to  go 
back  and  live  with  him.  Again  I  refused.  Soon  after, 
I  lost  my  situation  —  through  him,  I  discovered  afterwards. 
I  was  starving.  Then  he  came  to  me  again.  He  was  quiet, 
and  even  gentle  with  me.  He  begged  and  begged,  until  at 
last  in  despair,  I  consented  to  go  back  to  him.  He  treated 
me  well  for  awhile.    Then  I  discovered  why. 

"  He  had  a  friend,  or  rather  a  master,  who  had  been 
pleased  to  admire  me.  What  the  hideous  compact  was,  I 
do  not  know,  but  his  only  object  in  getting  me  back  was  to 
hand  me  over  to  this  man  —  for  a  price.  I  was  to  be  sold 
like  an  animal.  The  man  who  had  deceived  me  was  to  pass 
me  on  to  his  master.  It  was  a  bargain  between  them.  After 
weeks  of  persecution,  I  came  to  know  of  it.  I  do  not  try  to 
tell  you  of  the  hideousness  of  those  days;  I  dare  not  let 
myself  think  of  them.  Only  if  an  eternal  hell  opened  before 
my  feet  side  by  side  with  a  renewal  of  them,  I  should  choose 
hell!  I  —  oh,  God!  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  them!  " 

She  wrung  her  hands,  and  a  curious  strained  look  came 
into  her  features.    Her  eyes  were  full  of  horror.    She  swayed 


64  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

and  would  have  fallen,  but  the  Englishman  leaned  over  and 
passed  his  strong  arm  around  her. 

"  Poor  little  woman!  "  he  said  tenderly. 

His  tone  acted  upon  her  like  magic.  She  fell  on  her  knees, 
and  hid  her  face  upon  his  chest,  sobbing  as  though  her  heart 
would  break.  Wisely  he  let  her  be,  and  as  soon  as  the  storm 
was  over,  he  lifted  her  easily  on  to  his  knee. 

"  Look  here,"  he  whispered.  "  What's  the  good  of  raking 
all  this  up?  I  don't  want  to  know  anything  about  it.  I'd 
rather  not." 

She  shook  her  head.  "  You  don't  understand !  "  she  said. 
"  I  must  tell  you.  I  shan't  mind  so  much  now.  Bryan, 
those  men  were  like  fiends  to  me.  I  had  made  up  my  mind 
to  die  before  I  gave  in.  It  wasn't  that  I  minded  —  the 
actual  wickedness  so  much,  but  I  hated  that  other  man  — 
oh,  how  I  hated  him!  They  treated  me  sometimes  like 
gaolers,  sometimes  they  brought  me  diamonds,  and  some- 
times they  tried  to  starve  me.  One  night  the  other  man 
came  in  alone.  I  —  I  can't  go  on.  I  was  desperate,  and  I 
stabbed  him.  He  wasn't  much  hurt,  but  he  was  frightened, 
and  I  got  away.  I  was  utterly  mad.  I  had  not  a  friend 
in  the  world,  and  no  money.  I  gave  up  all  hope  of  leading 
a  good  life.  I  came  down  to  Jose's  Cafe,  and  I  saw  you. 
You  were  kinder  to  me  than  any  one  ever  had  been  in  my 
life,  and  your  face  was  honest.  You  know  the  rest  of  that. 
We  were  together  for  the  happiest  two  months  I  had  ever 
had.  Then  you  left  me,  and  I  thought  my  heart  would 
break.  I  was  afraid  to  be  alone.  That  other  man  was 
pitiless,  and  he  was  strong.  I  was  horribly  afraid  of  him. 
He  was  rich  enough  to  have  a  whole  army  of  ruffians  to 
back  him  up,  and  I  shivered  when  I  thought  of  what  he 
might  do.  Then  that  letter  came  for  you,  and  the  same 
day  I  saw  him  in  his  carriage,  and  a  strange  man  followed 
me  home.  I  was  wild  with  fright,  and  you  know  what  I  did. 
I  followed  you  here." 


A   CORNER   OF   THE   CURTAIN  65 

He  patted  her  cheek,  and  smoothed  the  hair  from  her 
forehead. 

"  Well,  you're  safe  enough  here,  little  woman,"  he  said 
with  gruff  kindliness.  "  I  don't  see  what  you  want  to  look 
so  scared  for." 

She  lifted  her  face  to  his.  "  I  haven't  told  you  yet," 
she  said,  in  a  hoarse  whisper.  "  Bryan,  that  man  you  call 
Jim  Hamilton  is  the  man  who  betrayed  me.  His  real  name 
is  Maurice  Huntly.    He  is  an  Englishman." 

"  By  thunder!" 

The  Englishman's  face  was  a  study.  The  half-vexed 
sympathy  with  which  he  had  been  regarding  the  girl  upon 
his  knee,  had  altogether  vanished.  His  face  exhibited 
nothing  but  the  blankest  astonishment  and  wonder. 

"  You  won't  give  me  up  to  him?  "  she  whispered. 

"  No,  I  won't  give  you  up,"  he  promised  absently. 
"  Maurice  Huntly!  My  God!" 

She  looked  at  him  fixedly.  A  new  light  was  breaking  in 
upon  her. 

"  You  know  —  something  about  him,"  she  cried  breath- 
lessly. 

"  Not  much,"  he  answered,  with  a  short  laugh.  "  Only 
that  he  is  the  man  whom  I  have  come  five  thousand  miles 
to  find.    Huntly!  Maurice  Huntly !  My  God!" 


CHAPTER  IX 

A  NEW  PARTNERSHIP 

The  stranger  pursued  his  way  with  some  difficulty  down 
the  canon,  and  eventually  reached  the  level  without  acci- 
dent. Here  he  paused  to  take  breath  and  look  around.  To 
the  right  the  old  bed  of  the  river  wound  through  a  fertile 
valley,  and  here  it  was  that  the  bulk  of  the  gold-digging  was 
being  done.  In  the  distance  a  few  dark  figures  with  lanterns 
in  their  hands  were  still  bending  over  their  work,  but  the 
great  majority  had  finished  for  the  day,  and  in  the  dim 
light  the  great  deserted  space,  with  its  occasional  mounds 
of  fresh-dug  earth,  and  a  few  rude  shafts  standing  up  against 
the  naked  sky,  had  a  weird,  ghostly  appearance.  The 
stranger,  whose  nerves  appeared  to  be  none  of  the  strongest, 
shivered  and  led  his  mule  away,  following  the  track  to  the 
left.  He  turned  round  a  steep  promotory,  and  found  him- 
self at  once  in  the  midst  of  the  settlement. 

There  were  about  a  score  of  roughly  put  together  wooden 
shanties,  and  one  long  pine-board  building,  in  front  of  which 
several  oil  lamps  were  flaring  steadily  away  in  the  breath- 
less air.  Most  of  the  dwellers  in  the  place  seemed  to  be 
gathered  round  the  latter  building,  although  a  few  remained 
leaning  against  the  walls  of  their  shanties  smoking  alone.  A 
few  yards  apart,  a  dozen  or  two  Chinese  were  squatting  on 
the  ground  round  a  large  tent,  playing  cards  by  the  light  of 
several  flickering  candles. 


A   NEW   PARTNERSHIP  67 

The  arrival  of  the  stranger  was  the  signal  for  a  universal 
stir.  The  group  around  Cooper's  store  all  ceased  talking, 
and  turning  round,  saluted  him  with  various  exclamations. 
The  men  who  had  been  lounging  alone  forgot  their  unso- 
ciability in  the  unwonted  excitement,  and  crowded  round 
him.  Even  the  Chinese  threw  down  their  cards,  and  gazed 
upon  the  new-comer  open-mouthed. 

"  Any  more  of  yer,  matey?  " 

"  What's  the  gang?  " 

"  Say,  have  you  brought  the  mail?  " 

"  Got  a  newspaper,  pard?  " 

"  Hitch  him  up;    there's  a  nail!  " 

There  was  a  momentary  silence  at  last.  It  was  felt  that 
the  stranger  ought  to  be  given  a  chance  to  declare  himself. 
He  fastened  his  mule  awkwardly  up  as  directed,  and  stood 
on  the  threshold  of  the  store  looking  round  into  the  rough, 
toil-hardened  faces  by  which  he  was  surrounded,  with  some 
little  trepidation.  Then  he  scratched  his  head  feebly  and 
tried  to  answer  their  questions.  After  the  deep  bass  voices 
which  had  assailed  him,  his  shrill,  quavering  tone  sounded 
oddly. 

"  I'm  quite  alone,"  he  said.  "  I  had  a  partner,  but  he 
has  gone  to  Christopher's  Creek.  He  went  off  with  all  my 
tools  as  well  as  his  own.  I've  been  twenty  days  on  the  way 
from  San  Francisco.  I  didn't  bring  a  newspaper.  I'm 
going  to  get  something  to  eat  and  drink.  I'm  afraid  it  won't 
run  to  drinks  round,  but  if  a  bottle  of  whisky " 

"  Hurrah!" 

"  Bravo,  little  'un!" 

"  That's  bully!" 

The  stranger  found  his  speech  brought  to  an  abrupt  ter- 
mination and  himself  carried  off  his  feet  in  the  sudden  rush 
to  get  inside  the  store.  He  stood  in  no  little  danger  of  being 
knocked  down  and  trampled  on,  but  Mr.  Hamilton,  with  a 


68     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

consideration  which  was  highly  creditable,  caught  hold  of 
him  by  the  middle,  and  lifting  him  bodily  up,  deposited 
him,  limp  and  breathless,  in  a  chair  before  a  long  wooden 
table.    Then  he  joined  the  rest  of  the  crowd  round  the  bar. 

The  storekeeper,  with  the  bottle  of  whisky  under  his 
arm,  leaned  over  towards  the  new-comer. 

"  Seven  dollars,  guv'nor,"  he  announced  gruffly.  "  Tip 
it  up,  and  I  open  the  stuff." 

The  new-comer  produced  a  slender  roll  of  green-backs, 
and  counted  out  the  money.  A  dozen  hands  were  extended 
to  pass  it  over,  and  a  slight  gulp  of  relief  passed  through  the 
little  crowd  when  it  was  seen  that  the  money  was  to  be 
forthcoming.  Blue  River  prices  were  high,  and  there  had 
been  some  apprehension  lest  the  stranger  might  withdraw 
from  his  generous  offer. 

The  bottle  was  drained  to  the  last  dregs.  Then  one  or 
two  of  the  men  brought  their  liquor  over,  and  sat  down  at 
the  table.  Mr.  Hamilton  had  secured  the  place  next  the 
stranger. 

"  Dan,"  he  shouted,  turning  round,  "  come  and  take  the 
gentleman's  order.  Didn't  you  hear  him  say  that  he  was 
hungry?    Come  and  wait  on  your  patrons,  you  idiot!  " 

"  What's  'e  want?  "  inquired  the  storekeeper,  lounging 
over  the  bar.    "  Can't  he  give  it  a  name?  " 

"  Whar's  the  menu?  Guess  that's  what  he's  waiting  for," 
remarked  one  of  the  loungers  at  the  table.  "  Reckons  it's 
Delmonico's.    Fitch  the  lobster  salad,  Dan." 

Mr.  Hamilton  brought  his  fist  down  on  the  table  with  a 
weighty  bang,  and  glared  savagely  around. 

"Shut  up,  you  blarsted  fools!  Stranger,  there's  boiled 
rabbit  and  onion  sauce.  Can  you  eat  boiled  rabbit?  You 
can.  Good,  so  can  I!  Dan,  send  round  two  platefuls  — 
platefuls,  mind,  and  don't  stump  it  —  of  boiled  rabbit.  We 
will  select  the  wines  later.    Mates,"  he  added,  looking  down 


A   NEW   PARTNERSHIP  69 

the  table  with  lowering  brows,  "  this  gentleman  is  my  friend. 
You  understand!  " 

He  touched  his  belt.  There  was  no  spoken  answer,  but 
in  a  minute  or  two  the  table  was  empty.  One  by  one  they 
got  up  and  lounged  outside.  The  only  man  amongst  them 
whose  face  was  at  all  kindly  glanced  at  the  stranger  as  he 
passed,  half  in  contempt,  half  compassionately.  It  was  as 
well  for  him  that  he  could  not  hear  their  remarks  when  they 
came  together  outside.    It  might  have  spoilt  his  appetite. 

Mr.  Hamilton  and  the  stranger  were  soon  alone  in  the 
store.  Their  supper  had  arrived  and  was  half.finished  before 
either  evinced  any  desire  for  conversation.  Then  Mr. 
Hamilton,  still  trifling  with  his  fork,  leaned  back  in  his 
chair,  and  steadfastly  watching  his  companion,  asked  a 
question. 

"  Name,  pal?  " 

The  stranger  leaned  over.    "  Eh?   I  beg " 

"  What's  your  name,  I  asked?  " 

"  Oh!    Christopher  Skein.    What's  yours?  " 

"  Hamilton.  Jim  Hamilton  here,  Huntly  in  'Frisco. 
Maurice  Huntly,  Esq.,  when  I'm  in  luck.  What  the  hell's 
the  matter  with  you?  " 

Mr.  Skein  was  evidently  nervous.  He  had  dropped  his 
knife  and  fork,  and  had  disappeared  after  them  under  the 
table.  When  he  resumed  an  upright  position,  there  was  a 
tinge  of  dull  brick  colour  in  this  cheeks,  and  his  little  eyes 
were  brighter  than  ever. 

"  I'm  all  right,"  he  declared  briskly  —  "  right  as  nine- 
pence.    Let's  have  some  more  liquor!    I'll  pay!    Name  it!" 

"Brandy!"  growled  Mr.  Hamilton.  His  companion's 
suddenly  increased  hilarity  was  making  him  suspicious.  It 
was  time  to  pump  him  dry. 

"  Say,  what  have  you  come  for?  "  he  began,  folding  his 
arms  upon  the  table,  and  leaning  heavily  forward.    "  Is  it 


70      THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

the  gold  fever  that  brought  you,  or  are  you  on  any  little  lay 
of  your  own,  eh?  Straight,  now ;  no  lies!  By  thunder,  I'm 
not  the  man  to  tell  lies  to.  Just  you  remember  that,  my 
weasel!  " 

An  ugly  light  flashed  into  his  red,  bloodshot  eyes.  He 
flung  a  six-chambered  revolver  down  on  to  the  table  before 
him  with  an  unnecessary  clatter.  The  stranger  turned  pale, 
and  edged  his  chair  away.  He  was  getting  horribly 
frightened. 

"Please  turn  that  beastly  thing  away!"  he  said  pee- 
vishly.   "  It  might  go  off." 

Mr.  Hamilton  stared  at  him,  and  then  grinned.  It  was 
very  clear  that  he  had  found  a  greenhorn  here. 

"  Might  go  off!"  he  repeated  ironically.  "  Oh,  lord! 
Might  go  off!    Ha,  ha,  ha!" 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  relapsed  into  a  fit  of 
strident  laughter.  When  it  was  over,  he  wiped  the  tears 
from  his  eyes  and  sat  up. 

"  Go  on,  young'  un!  "  he  said,  almost  good-humour edly. 
"  Spin  us  your  yarn!  " 

Whereupon  Mr.  Skein  told  his  story,  with  a  few  embel- 
lishments which  recent  events  had  suggested  to  him.  For 
instance,  it  appeared  now  that  his  late  partner  had  stolen 
both  revolvers,  and  threatened  to  shoot  him  dead  if  he 
followed  him  a  yard.  He  liked  this  story  better  than  the 
other,  and  repeated  it  twice.  He  had  sense  enough  to  know 
himself  that  he  was  a  coward,  and  physically  at  a  miserable 
disadvantage  with  the  weakest  of  the  men  who  had 
thronged  the  store  a  few  minutes  ago.  At  the  same  time  he 
fully  realized  the  importance  of  keeping  this  fact  as  far  as 
possible  to  himself. 

Mr.  Hamilton  listened  with  some  appearance  of  sym- 
pathy. At  the  close  of  the  narration  he  produced  a  pipe, 
filled  and  lit  it,  and  spat  upon  the  floor. 


A   NEW   PARTNERSHIP  71 

"  You've  been  pretty  roughly  used,  and  no  mistake,"  he 
declared.  "  Why  didn't  you  turn  back,  though?  What's 
the  use  of  coming  here  without  tools,  or  money,  or  any- 
thing?   What  the  hell  are  you  going  to  do?  " 

"  Who  said  I  hadn't  any  money,  eh?  "  demanded  Mr. 
Skein,  running  his  fingers  through  his  hair.  "  I'm  not 
stoney  broke  yet  —  not  quite." 

Mr.  Hamilton  grew  more  interested. 

"  Got  a  bit  o'  money,  eh?  "  he  remarked.  "  What  are 
you  going  to  do  with  it?    Mark  out  a  claim,  and  chuck  it 

away  in  tools,  I  suppose.    I'm  d d  if  I  can  see  how  you're 

going  to  handle  the  shovel,  though,  when  you've  got  it. 
Where's  your  muscle?    Lord!   what  an  arm!" 

"  I  would  rather,"  Mr.  Skein  remarked,  with  his  eyes 
keenly  watching  the  other's  countenance,  "  I  would  rather 
pay  for  a  share  in  a  claim  that  was  already  being  worked, 
and  take  a  partner.  Having  no  experience,  and  being  as 
you  say  not  very  strong,  I  should  be  content  with  the 
smaller  share  in  the  profits." 

Mr.  Hamilton  drained  a  glass  of  brandy,  and  held  out  his 
hand. 

"  Put  it  there,  young  man,"  he  said  impressively.  "  I'm 
the  only  man  here  who's  working  alone,  and  I've  got  a  claim 
as  good  as  any  of  them,  right  next  to  those  lucky  devils 
who've  been  panning  out  nuggets  all  day.  I've  got  a  shanty 
all  to  myself,  and  there's  heaps  of  room  for  you.  Blarmed 
if  I  didn't  take  a  fancy  to  you  the  moment  you  came  in! 
Plank  down  the  coin,  and  we're  pards." 

"  What's  the  figure?  I  ain't  no  blooming  Vanderbilt,  you 
know;   be  easy." 

Mr.  Hamilton  meditated. 

"  I'll  take  two  hundred  dollars,  and  you  take  a  third  of 
the  swag,  or  five  hundred,  and  go  yer  halves.  That's 
liberal." 


74  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT  SNARE 

On  the  banks  of  the  Blue  River  the  men  toiled  hard  by  day, 
and  slept  heavily  at  night.  But  high  above  then-  heads  m 
the  little  wooden  shanty  at  the  head  of  the  gorge,  that  dull, 
sickly  light  shone  steadily  on. 


CHAPTER   X 

A  DEBAUCH  AND   A  TRAGEDY 

Mr.  Hamilton  was  drunk,  fiercely  and  unmistakably 
drunk.  There  could  be  no  doubt  about  it,  although  he  be- 
trayed none  of  the  usual  signs  of  plebeian  intoxication.  He 
was  not  shouting  or  singing,  or  displaying  any  violent  signs 
of  affection  for  his  boon  companion  and  partner.  He  was 
not  —  in  a  word  —  maudlin.  He  sat  on  a  wooden  bench 
with  his  hands  on  his  knees  and  his  chin  thrust  forward; 
whilst  opposite  to  him,  as  though  fascinated  by  the  fierce 
glare  of  those  red,  bloodshot  eyes,  Mr.  Skein  was  indulging 
in  a  very  hollow  affectation  of  thoroughly  enjoying  himself. 
With  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  his  sallow  cheeks  flushed 
by  his  very  moderate  share  of  the  empty  bottle  which  lay 
between  them,  he  was  feebly  essaying  to  sing  the  chorus  of  a 
popular  comic  song: 

"  Oh,  my,  tell  'em  to  stop! 
Such  was  the  cry  of  Maria. 
When  she  cried  '  Whoa! ' 
They  said  '  Let  her  go  ! ' 
And " 

"  Shut  up  that  d d  row,  you  blithering  idiot!  " 

Mr.  Skein  closed  his  jaws  with  a  snap. 
"  What's  the  matter  with  it?  "    he  asked  feebly.     "  I 

75 


76      THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

know  I  haven't  got  much  of  a  voice,  but  that's  no  reason 
why  you  should  snarl  a  fellow's  head  off." 

"  Much  of  a  voice!  It's  like  the  squeak  of  a  hell-cat," 
Mr.  Hamilton  remarked  between  his  teeth.  "  Turn  your 
rat's  face  this  way.  I'm  drunk,  and  you  know  it.  Now, 
hark  'ee.  What  the  hell  do  you  mean  by  sitting  there  and 
asking  me  questions  about  my  private  affairs,  eh?  " 

"I  —  I  didn't  mean  any  harm,"  faltered  Skein,  with 
chattering  teeth.    "  I've  told  you  all  about  myself." 

"  All  about  yourself !  Yes,  and  it  sounded  like  a  blooming 
pack  of  lies,"  growled  the  other.  "  Bah!  what  do  I  care 
about  you  and  your  pettifogging,  crawling  little  life?  Sit 
up,  man,  and  pull  yourself  together.  Don't  crouch  there 
and  look  at  me  out  of  the  corners  of  your  eyes,  as  though 
I  were  going  to  eat  you." 

"  You're  such  an  odd  fellow,  Jim.    You're " 

"  Ay,  you'll  find  I'm  odd  before  you've  done  with  me. 
Pick  up  that  bottle.    Is  it  empty?  " 

Skein  turned  it  upside  down.  Not  a  drop  trickled  out. 
Mr.  Hamilton  expressed  his  disappointment  with  a  savage 
growl. 

"  Open  that  cupboard." 

Skein  obeyed  promptly. 

"  There's  a  black  bottle  there,  half  full,  unless  you've 
been  guzzling  it  on  the  sly.    Out  with  it." 

Skein's  head  and  shoulders  disappeared  in  the  recess.  In 
a  moment  he  produced  the  bottle  and  passed  it  over.  Mr. 
Hamilton  handled  it  for  awhile  with  affection,  passing  his 
hands  up  and  down  it  with  affectionate  gentleness.  Then 
he  raised  it  to  his  lips,  and  held  it  there  while  it  gurgled 
seven  times.  As  he  set  it  down  he  caught  his  partner's  eye 
watching  him  timidly.    He  held  out  the  bottle  to  him. 

"  Drink,"  he  commanded. 

Skein  took  the  bottle,  raised  it  to  his  lips,  and  set  it 


A   DEBAUCH   AND   A   TRAGEDY  77 

down.  Mr.  Hamilton  scowled.  He  had  been  listening  for 
the  gurgle,  and  there  had  been  none.  Naturally  he  felt 
annoyed. 

He  got  up  with  some  difficulty,  and  seized  the  bottle  with 
one  hand,  and  the  back  of  his  partner's  head  with  the 
other. 

"  Now,  drink,"  he  shouted  thickly.  "  Drink,  you  puling 
idiot!    No  shamming.    Down  with  it  like  a  man." 

With  a  trembling  hand  Skein  guided  the  neck  of  the 
bottle  to  his  mouth.  Instantly  it  was  held  there  like  a  vice. 
The  raw,  fierce  spirit  poured  down  his  throat  as  hot  as 
liquid  fire.  He  coughed,  spluttered,  yelled.  The  tears 
streamed  down  his  cheeks,  and  he  grew  purple  to  the  fore- 
head.  Then  with  a  mighty  laugh  Mr.  Hamilton  withdrew 
his  hand,  and,  carrying  the  bottle  with  him,  resumed  his 
seat. 

"  Hark  'ee,  Christopher,"  he  said,  frowning  till  his  thick 
eyebrows  met,  and  his  eyes  glowed  underneath  them  like 
pieces  of  live  coal.  "  You  know  I'm  drunk.  You've  shirked 
the  bottle  yourself  on  purpose.  You've  been  asking  me 
questions  —  pumping  me,  by  thunder,  just  as  though  I  was 
some  commonplace  idiot  to  be  turned  inside  out  by  a  sick- 
faced  insect  like  you.  Perhaps  you  didn't  mean  anything. 
Better  for  you  that  you  didn't.  Perhaps  I'm  suspicious. 
Dare  say  I  am.  I  don't  mind  telling  you  this  much,  you 
miserable  young  cub.  I'm  low  down,  low  down  as  hell,  but 
I've  been  a  gentleman,  and  an  English  gentleman,  too,  and 
hunted  and  shot,  and  had  my  town  place  and  country  place, 
and  seen  more  of  life  than  you've  ever  heard  or  read  of. 
And  I'm  not  quite  done  yet.  I've  got  the  disposal  of  a  huge 
estate  and  a  great  name  in  my  hand  at  this  very  moment. 
Ha,  ha,  ha!  It's  a  fine  thing!  There's  a  man  in  the  old 
country  who  trembles  and  turns  pale  at  the  mention  of  my 
name.   He's  a  proud  man,  too,  one  of  the  old  sort,  but  you 


78  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT  SNARE 

go  to  him  and  tell  him  that  Jim  Hu —  Hamilton's  outside 
to  have  a  word  with  him,  and,  Lord,  how  he'd  flop !  " 

Mr.  Skein  was  himself  again.  His  teeth  had  ceased  to 
chatter,  and  his  bead-like  eyes  were  sparkling.  He  seemed 
to  have  forgotten  even  his  fear. 

"  Why  don't  you  bleed  him?  "    he  whispered. 

Mr.  Hamilton  laughed  softly.  It  was  an  evil  laugh. 
Even  his  admiring  partner  drew  a  little  further  away.  It 
was  a  laugh  which  suggested  a  good  many  things,  but  cer- 
tainly not  mirth. 

"  Ay,  why  don't  I?  "  he  said.  "  Well,  I'll  tell  you,  pard. 
You  ain't  a  bad  little  sort,  and  you  wouldn't  try  any  games 
on  me,  I  don't  think.  I'm  a  bit  hasty  with  my  shooting 
irons  when  I'm  roused.  You  remember  that,  my  kid,  and 
if  you  don't  want  daylight  letting  into  your  body,  keep  a 
still  tongue  in  your  ugly  head.  Now  I'll  tell  you.  I  was  in 
England  —  not  very  long  ago  —  never  mind  how  long. 
There  are  two  of  them;  one  don't  know,  the  other  does. 
I  was  fixing  things  up  when  I  got  into  a  row  —  never  mind 
what  sort  —  it  was  a  hell  of  a  row,  though !  I  had  to  bolt. 
Out  here  a  man's  life  more  or  less  don't  count.  Lord,  it's 
the  sort  of  place  to  be  jolly  in,  this  is!  But  I've  written  to 
those  chaps.  I'm  going  to  run  'em  up,  one  against  the  other. 
Christopher,  my  boy,  if  you  were  pards  with  me  here,"  he 
clapped  his  hand  upon  his  chest,  "  your  fortune  would  be 
made.    But  you  ain't,  you  see." 

Skein  was  trembling  all  over,  not  with  fear  this  time  but 
with  excitement.  He  had  distinctly  heard  the  rustle  of 
paper  when  his  partner  had  struck  his  chest.  It  was  there, 
sewn  into  his  coat,  very  likely.  How  his  heart  was  beating! 
Oh,  if  only  he  were  not  such  a  coward ! 

"  What  is  it,  Jim?  "  he  asked,  with  quavering  voice. 
"  Documents?  " 

Mr.  Hamilton  shot  a  furious  glance  at  his  questioner. 


A   DEBAUCH   AND   A   TRAGEDY  79 

There  was  a  look  in  the  lean,  craven  face  and  hungry, 
piercing  eyes,  which  did  not  take  his  fancy.  He  was  aware 
that  he  had  talked  too  much.  The  fumes  of  the  spirit  had 
worked  like  fire  in  his  brain.  What  had  he  said?  Perhaps 
it  would  be  safer 

He  drew  out  his  revolver,  and  began  to  examine  the 
priming.  He  spat  on  the  barrel  and  polished  it,  glancing 
every  now  and  then  at  his  companion,  who  was  almost 
falling  off  his  seat  with  terror. 

There  was  an  intense  silence  between  the  two  men,  so 
deep  that  the  faint  night  sounds  from  the  wood,  and  the 
music  of  the  softly  flowing  river  in  the  valley  below,  floated 
in  through  the  open  doorway  to  their  ears.  Suddenly  they 
both  gave  a  great  start.  Skein  sprang  up  with  a  cry  of 
fear.  His  partner,  leaning  over,  seized  him  fiercely  by  the 
arm. 

"  Listen,  you  d d  fool!  "    he  muttered  savagely.  "If 

you  breathe  a  word  I'll  knock  your  brains  out!  " 

They  listened  motionless.  A  slight  rustling  sound  again 
broke  the  deep  night  hush.  What  was  it?  A  sudden  breeze 
in  the  tree-tops,  a  stray  wolf  attracted  by  the  light,  or  the 
faint  rustling  of  a  woman's  gown  over  the  short  grass? 

"  Some  one  has  been  lying  there  listening!  "  Mr.  Hamil- 
ton hissed.     "Quick!" 

He  staggered  towards  the  door,  the  revolver  in  his  hand. 
Half-way  there,  he  reeled  against  the  wall.  The  shanty  was 
spinning  round.  He  was  blind  drunk.  He  held  out  the 
revolver  to  Skein. 

"Take  it  quick!"  he  muttered.  "Outside!  Blaze 
away!  " 

Skein  snatched  it  from  him,  and  rushed  to  the  doorway. 
But  he  did  not  even  glance  out.  He  turned  round  and  faced 
his  partner.  His  cheeks  were  ghastly  pale,  and  his  eyes 
seemed  starting  from  his  head. 


80  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT  SNARE 

"  Not  inside,  you  blarsted  idiot!  "  yelled  Mr.  Hamilton. 

"  What  the  hell  are  you  doing?    D n!  " 

Two  shots  rang  out,  one  after  the  other.  Mr.  Hamilton, 
with  a  fearful  oath  upon  his  lips,  fell  sideways  across  the 
floor,  with  his  hand  pressed  to  his  side.  His  partner,  throw- 
ing down  the  revolver,  leaped  through  the  thick  smoke, 
and  knelt  over  the  fallen  body.  His  tongue  was  protruding 
between  his  teeth,  and  his  eyes  seemed  starting  from  his 
head.  With  shaking  fingers  he  commenced  to  undo  the 
wounded  man's  coat.  Before  he  got  to  the  last  button  Mr. 
Hamilton  opened  his  eyes,  and  he  drew  back  with  a  shriek. 

"  You've  —  done  for  me  —  you  devil!"  muttered  Mr. 
Hamilton.  "  Oh,  if  I  could  feel  my  hands  around  —  around 
your  neck! " 

"  Give  me  the  —  paper  in  your  coat,  and  I'll  leave  you 
alone!  "  Skein  whispered.  He  was  breathing  hard,  and  his 
lips  and  eyeballs  were  burning.  It  was  not  quite  so  easy  to 
kill  a  man,  after  all!  Mr.  Hamilton  thrust  his  hand  into 
his  breast,  and  his  partner  bent  eagerly  down.  It  was  a 
rashness  of  which  he  had  reason  to  repent,  for,  instead  of 
the  paper,  he  received  Mr.  Hamilton's  fist  full  in  his  face. 
He  staggered  against  the  wall,  sick  and  dizzy.  Then  the 
wounded  man  raised  himself  with  a  little  moaning  cry. 

"Myra!"  he  gasped.  "  Myra!  he's  shot  me!  Hold 
him!" 

Skein  turned  round,  quaking.  Standing  upon  the  thresh- 
old, with  the  moonlight  falling  upon  her  white,  horrified 
face,  and  her  slender  figure  clearly  outlined  against  the 
deep  blue  sky,  was  the  girl  from  the  shanty  opposite.  He 
did  not  hesitate  for  a  moment.  He  leaped  past  her  like  a 
cat,  and  went  headlong  down  the  gorge.  She  did  not  try 
to  stop  him.    Her  limbs  were  paralyzed  with  horror. 

"Myra!"  he  faltered.  "  I'm  done!  Will  you  come 
here?  " 


A   DEBAUCH   AND   A   TRAGEDY  81 

She  did  not  hesitate  then  for  a  moment.  She  fell  on  her 
knees  by  his  side,  and  took  his  hand.  She  forgot  her  loath- 
ing, and  she  forgot  her  wrongs.  She  forgot  every  tiling 
except  that  she  was  a  woman ! 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE     GOLDEN     EGG 

The  blackness  of  night  was  followed  by  the  dim,  spectral 
gray  of  an  early  dawn.  Myra,  whose  face  was  turned  to  the 
open  door,  welcomed  it  with  a  deep-drawn  sigh  of  relief. 
Another  such  a  night  as  this,  and  she  felt  that  death  or 
madness  would  be  welcome.  For  when  Mr.  James  Hamilton 
had  opened  his  eyes  to  find  her  bending  over  him,  he  had 
stretched  out  his  hand  and  imprisoned  hers.  Minutes  had 
grown  into  hours,  and  she  had  not  been  able  to  move.  He 
had  kept  her  there  crouched  by  his  side,  half-stupefied  with 
horror,  unable  to  move  hand  or  limb.  He  had  not  spoken  to 
her  again;  he  had  scarcely  moved  except  every  now  and 
then  to  make  some  change  in  his  position,  groaning  heavily 
all  the  time.  So  she  had  sat  there  through  those  intolerably 
long  hours  of  the  night,  a  faint  breeze  fanning  their  faces; 
her  head  turned  resolutely  away  from  him  towards  the  open 
door,  where  a  thousand  glittering  fireflies  darted  about  in 
the  soft  velvety  darkness. 

And  then  came  the  dawn.  For  Myra  it  would  have 
brought  an  overpowering  sense  of  relief,  but  for  one  thing  — 
that,  as  the  morning  paled  the  eastern  skies,  and  the  long 
level  streaks  of  gray  luminous  clouds  crept  slowly  into  the 
background,  the  man  by  whose  side  she  was  watching 
opened  his  eyes,  and  began  to  exhibit  all  the  signs  of  return- 

82 


THE   GOLDEN   EGG  83 

ing  consciousness.  Eagerly  she  leaned  forward,  striving  to 
distinguish  the  dim  outline  of  the  opposite  shanty.  If  only 
Bryan  would  come  across  the  gorge  on  his  way  to  the  river ! 
Surely  he  would  miss  her  soon? 

"Myra!" 

It  was  a  hoarse,  low  whisper  almost  in  her  ear.  She  felt 
sick  with  horror,  but  she  turned  round.  She  looked  into  his 
strong,  passionate  face,  white  and  drawn  now  with  pain, 
and  was  silent. 

"  That  cowardly  —  devil  has  done  for  me,  I  fancy. 
Listen,  girl!  " 

His  fingers  tightened  upon  her  wrist.  Even  at  such  a 
crisis  as  this,  her  horror  of  the  man  was  such  that  she  could 
not  look  at  him  without  shrinking. 

"  It  was  my  own  d d  folly !    I  got  drunk  and  told  him 

a  secret,"  he  muttered.  "  He  wanted  a  paper.  Open  my 
coat,  quick!  " 

She  thrust  it  back.  He  guided  her  trembling  fingers,  and 
she  could  feel  something  stiff  between  the  lining  and  the 
cloth. 

"  Rip  that  open,"  he  murmured.  "  There  is  a  little  hole 
in  the  bottom.    Put  your  finger  in  it,  and  tear!  " 

She  obeyed  him.  The  stitches,  rotten  with  age  and  wear, 
tore  out.    She  drew  from  the  gap  a  flat  oilskin  case. 

"  Hide  it  in  your  dress,  quick,  and  listen!  " 

She  thrust  it  into  her  bosom.  He  drew  a  hoarse,  gurgling 
breath  of  relief. 

"  That  bungling,  cowardly  idiot  is  sold  anyway,"  he  said. 
"  Myra,  that  paper  —  is  worth  a  fortune.  I  give  it  to  you 
—  because  you  are  my  wife.    See?  " 

She  drew  back  and  looked  at  him  with  parted  lips  and 
bloodless  face. 

"  Your  —  your  wife!  " 

She  had  lost  the  power  of  speech.   It  was  all  she  could  say. 


84     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

"  Yes.  When  I  told  you  that  —  you  weren't  —  I  lied !  I 
was  generally  lying  when  I  told  you  anything.  The  woman 
I  married  before  had  been  dead  years.  You  might  have 
guessed  it,  if  you  hadn't  been  —  such  a  soft  little  fool !  I  — 
I  married  you  to  make  money  out  of  you;  you  were  so 
d d  pretty.    Curse  this  pain!  " 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Her  eyes,  which  she  had  not 
been  able  to  move  from  his  face,  showed  her  that  he  was 
struggling  with  a  deadly  faintness. 

"  D n  you,  why  don't  you  do  something  for  me,"  he 

gasped,  "  instead  of  staring  like  that?    Give  me  — that 
bottle!" 

He  pointed  with  wavering  finger  to  the  black  bottle 
which  lay  on  its  side.  With  a  great  effort  she  clenched  her 
teeth  and  rose.  There  was  a  tin  mug  on  the  shelf.  She  filled 
it  with  what  was  left  of  the  liquor,  and  held  it  to  his  lips. 
He  gulped  it  down  to  the  last  drop.  The  film  passed  from 
his  eyes,  and  his  fingers  ceased  to  twitch.    He  was  restored. 

"  If  you  hadn't  been  coming  back  to  me  —  as  I  bade  you, 
I  should  have  torn  this  paper  up.  You  see  —  a  devoted 
wife  —  is  sometimes  repaid,"  he  sneered.  "  I'll  tell  you 
how  to  use  it.    Let  me  think." 

She  sat  there  waiting  with  dull  confused  senses,  wonder- 
ing in  a  vague  sort  of  way  whether  it  was  very  wicked  to 
deceive  a  dying  man,  as  she  was  doing.  Coming  back  to 
him!  Was  that  what  he  thought?  Was  that  how  he 
accounted  for  her  sudden  appearance?  If  only  he  knew 
that  it  was  to  spy  upon  him  that  she  had  crept  out  of  her 
bed  in  the  darkness  and  stolen  over  to  hide  amongst  the 
alder  bushes,  to  watch  and  listen,  ay,  and  to  rob,  if  she  had 
the  chance.  What  would  he  say,  if  he  knew  that?  But 
after  all,  he  would  never  know.  She  had  gained  what  she 
wanted.  It  was  her  right.  She  had  suffered  at  this  man's 
hands  villainy  that  the  fortune  of  a  Vanderbilt  could  never 


THE   GOLDEN   EGG  85 

atone  for.  She  would  accept  what  he  had  given,  and  she 
would  do  her  best  to  forgive  him.  It  is  easy  to  forgive  the 
dead. 

"Myra!" 

His  voice  broke  in  upon  her  thoughts.  She  started,  and 
turned  hastily  towards  him.  He  had  raised  himself  a  little, 
and  his  pain  seemed  to  be  less  acute.  He  spoke  distinctly 
and  even  rapidly. 

"  I  needn't  waste  my  breath  telling  you  any  of  the  story," 
he  said.  u  It's  humdrum  enough.  One  of  the  documents 
you  have  to  get  is  a  journal  written  by  the  man  himself.  It 
tells  the  whole  rigmarole.  That  packet  I  have  given  you 
contains  two  of  the  most  important  papers.  The  rest,  with 
the  diary,  are  in  San  Francisco.  I  left  them  in  safe  keeping. 
I  seemed  to  have  some  idea  that  I  was  being  followed  about, 
and  I  couldn't  conceal  all  of  them  about  me." 

"  Where  are  they?  "    she  asked. 

"  Amies  Rutten  has  them.  Curse  it,  you're  not  afraid  of 
him  still,  are  you?  " 

She  had  started  back  suddenly,  pale  and  trembling. 
Even  the  name  of  that  man  was  sufficient  to  make  her  blood 
run  cold. 

"  I  could  never  go  to  him  for  them!  "  she  said,  in  a  low 
tone.    "  I  could  not!    Oh,  I  could  not!  " 

He  caught  hold  of  her  wrist,  and  shook  it  savagely. 

"  Don't  be  such  a  d d  little  fool,"  he  muttered  sav- 
agely. "  He  can't  hurt  you.  Take  some  one  with  you  if 
you  are  afraid.  He's  got  the  parcel.  All  you  have  to  do  is 
to  go  and  say  I'm  done  for,  and  show  him  —  you're  listen- 
ing? " 

"  Yes,"  she  whispered  faintly. 

"  Show  him  three  crosses  on  a  blank  card.  That's  the 
sign  I  agreed  upon,  if  ever  I  should  want  that  package,  and 
not  be  able  to  fetch  it  myself.    The  person  who  showed  him 


86      THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

three  crosses  on  a  blank  card  was  to  be  treated  as  my 
agent." 

"  Supposing  —  he  should  refuse  to  give  it  me?  If  he 
knows  that  you  are  dead,  and  that  it  is  valuable,  he  may 
want  to  keep  it." 

"  He  may,"  Mr.  Hamilton  assented.  "  Listen,  Myra!  " 
he  added,  his  voice  dropping  to  a  hoarse  whisper,  and  his 
eyes  gleaming.  "  Supposing  he  should  try  it;  I  am  going 
to  let  you  into  a  secret.  I  am  going  to  tell  you  certain  words 
to  say  to  him.  First  lift  up  your  hand,  and  swear  that  once 
spoken,  you  will  never  breathe  them  again ;  you  will  forget 
you  ever  uttered  them.  Swear,  girl,  and  keep  your  oath, 
for  there  is  death  in  the  words.  Spoken  once,  they  may 
serve  you.  Spoken  afterwards,  repeated  even  to  yourself, 
and  they  will  be  your  destruction.    Swear!  " 

She  lifted  her  hand.  The  sudden  solemnity  of  his  manner 
had  somehow  communicated  itself  to  her. 

"  I  swear!  "    she  declared. 

Then  he  clutched  her  hand,  and  drew  her  down  until  his 
hot  breath  fell  upon  her  cheek.  No  human  being  could 
possibly  be  within  earshot  of  them,  but  his  voice  was  sunk 
to  a  whisper,  and  once  he  paused  to  look  half  fearfully 
around.  The  agitation  of  his  manner  was  unmistakable. 
She,  too,  as  though  by  some  species  of  magnetic  sympathy, 
came  under  its  influence.  What  power  was  there  he  was 
evoking,  so  mysterious  and  so  potent,  that  out  here  amongst 
the  lonely  hills,  and  in  the  silent  dawn,  he  could  not  speak 
of  it  save  with  bated  breath  and  blanched  cheeks?  She 
drank  in  every  syllable,  every  word  found  its  way  into  the 
chambers  of  her  memory,  and  remained  there.  Throughout 
the  whole  of  her  future  life  she  carried  with  her  a  vivid 
picture  of  that  little  scene.  There  it  was,  simple,  bare, 
dramatic.  The  rude  interior  of  the  shanty,  from  the  walls 
of  which  the  unstripped  bark  hung  down  in  long  shreds, 


THE   GOLDEN    EGG  87 

the  insects  which  crawled  on  the  ceiling,  the  overturned 
bench,  and  the  black  bottle  rolling  on  its  side,  the  man  in  his 
rough  mining  dress  who  crouched  there  with  this  strange 
new  look  of  awe  in  his  deep-branded,  resolute  features,  and 
the  dark  stain  of  blood  which,  drop  by  drop,  had  trickled 
down  and  soaked  into  the  floor.  And  outside,  like  some 
strangely  framed  silhouette,  a  vision  of  gray  clouds  and 
mists,  dimly  seen  trees  and  hills  all  vague  and  shadowy 
in  the  wan  light  of  the  coming  dawn.  The  waking  breeze 
and  the  strong  odour  of  the  pines,  these  too  dwelt  in  her 
mind.  Nothing  was  ever  forgotten.  Even  in  a  life  of  such 
vast  changes  as  lay  before  her,  an  experience  like  this  has 
its  own  peculiar  immortality.  It  baffles  new  sensations  and 
it  defies  time.  It  has  its  own  place,  and  death  alone  can 
dislodge  it. 

He  spoke  to  her  no  longer  with  the  cold  cynicism  of  his 
natural  manner,  but  with  deep  emphasis  and  impressive- 
ness.  In  the  shock  of  his  earnestness  he  was  once  more  a 
man  of  education  and  parts. 

"  Myra,  if  he  should  refuse,  if  he  should  divine  my  death, 
and  seek  to  play  the  robber's  part,  take  your  pencil  and 
paper  and  write  before  him.    Write  these  words: 

"  '  The  bow  and  the  iron,  the  arrow  and  the  steel. 

"  '  Maurice   Huntly.' 

"  Say  that  after  me." 

She  repeated  it  rapidly.    He  nodded  approval. 

"  Listen.  If  he  should  still  refuse,  leave  him.  Go  to 
Jose's  cafe.  See  Jose  himself.  Repeat  those  words  to  him. 
He  will  give  you  a  name  and  an  address.  You  will  seek  it 
out.  To  the  man  whom  you  will  find  you  will  tell,  without 
reserve,  everything;  my  death,  your  desire,  everything. 
Answer  all  his  questions.    Have  no  fear  of  him.    Then  go 


88     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

away  and  wait.  In  a  few  days  you  will  have  the  papers. 
Go  to  England,  and  you  will  easily  find  out  —  the  man  who 
knows.  Make  your  own  terms.  He  will  give  you  what  you 
ask.  I  went  to  him  but  once,  and  I  asked  for  ten  thousand 
pounds.  I  had  it.  You  can  have  more.  But  remember, 
treat  with  him;  never  with  the  other.  The  one  who  has, 
you  have  always  under  your  thumb;  but  the  other,  you 
are  powerless  with  him  after  you  have  once  parted  with  your 
golden  egg.  And  listen.  Here  is  news  for  you.  The  other 
is  here,  in  this  country,  searching  for  me.  Once  I  have  had 
suspicions  that  it  might  be  the  Englishman  yonder.  It  is 
only  a  guess.  Once,  as  he  slept,  his  features  seemed  fa- 
miliar to  me.  If  it  be  he,  guard  your  secret.  Leave  him. 
Remember!  " 

"  I  will  remember,"  she  echoed. 

He  sank  back  again  into  his  former  position,  and  lay 
there  motionless.  She  bent  over  him,  and  looked  into  his 
face.  His  breathing  had  become  fainter,  and  his  eyes  were 
closed.  Two  great  beads  of  perspiration  stood  out  upon  his 
forehead,  and  the  fingers  of  his  left  hand  were  tightly 
clenched.  She  looked  at  him  shuddering,  yet  fascinated. 
Was  this  death? 

And  with  that  self-asked  question  a  vague  troubled  sense 
of  responsibility  swept  in  upon  her.  Death!  And  after 
death,  what?  She  had  no  religion.  She  was  utterly  a  child 
of  nature  without  any  creed  of  her  own,  or  any  desire  to 
possess  one.  Yet  none  the  less  she  was  instinctively  a 
moralist.  Right  was  right,  and  wrong  was  wrong.  The 
world  had  been  made  so.  For  the  first  time  she  asked  her- 
self, by  whom  and  for  what  purpose?  If  there  was  a  reward 
for  well-doing,  what  was  the  fate  of  the  evil-doers  —  the 
fate  of  such  as  this  man?  Was  it  any  use  being  sorry? 
She  wondered  whether  there  was  anything  she  ought  to  say 
to  him,  whether  she  could  do  any  good  by  reminding  him  of 


THE   GOLDEN   EGG  89 

the  grim  passage  to  eternity  through  which  he  was  soon  to 
pass.  She  must  say  something,  she  felt.  What,  she  scarcely 
knew. 

She  touched  him  upon  the  arm,  and  he  opened  his  eyes. 

"  Jim,  are  you  sorry?  "  she  whispered. 

He  laughed,  a  grim,  harsh,  discordant  laugh. 

"  Not  I,"  he  muttered.     "I'm  no  d d  turncoat! 

The  devil  and  I  have  had  a  high  old  time,  and  I'll  stick  by 
him.  A  curse  on  all  canting  humbug!  If  —  I  had  —  my 
time  all  over  again  —  I'd  go  it  all  over  again.  I've  killed 
men  when  they've  been  in  my  way,  and  I've  made  more 
than  one  woman  miserable.     I've  plundered,  and  I've 

robbed ;    I've  gone  my  —  own  way,  and  it's  been  a  d d 

bad  one,  too!  I'll  die  as  I've  lived,  and  take  the  chance. 
I'm  —  no  coward." 

He  fell  back  exhausted,  and  closed  his  eyes.  She  got  up 
and  walked  to  the  door,  drinking  in  great  gulps  of  the  fresh 
morning  air  with  a  sense  of  immeasurable  relief.  Away 
eastwards,  the  sun  had  risen  from  behind  a  bank  of  purple 
and  red  clouds,  and  its  faint  light  having  kissed  the  snow- 
crowned  mountains  was  travelling  downwards.  Below  in 
the  valley,  little  patches  of  the  river  and  rock-strewn 
watercourse  were  dimly  visible  through  a  veil  of  white  mist 
which  every  moment  grew  fainter.  Now  she  could  see  the 
settlement  with  its  little  cluster  of  cabins  and  tents  and  men 
like  black  specks  moving  about  as  though  preparing  for  the 
morning's  toil.  And  yonder  —  ah,  yonder  at  last  —  was 
Bryan,  standing  at  the  door  of  his  shanty,  with  his  coat 
over  his  arm,  shading  his  eyes  while  he  gazed  around. 

She  waved  her  hand  and  called  out  to  him.  He  saw  her, 
and  started  with  surprise.  For  a  moment  he  hesitated. 
Then  he  came  striding  down  the  gorge,  swinging  himself  up 
again  on  the  opposite  side  to  where  she  was,  with  a  reckless- 
ness which  more  than  once  made  her  turn  away  from  watch- 


90  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

ing  him  with  a  shudder.  In  a  moment  or  two  he  stood  by 
her  side. 

"  Myra;  what  on  earth  are  you  doing  here?  "  he  asked 
sternly. 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"Hush!"  she  said  softly.  "  Something  terrible  has 
happened  —  in  there." 

She  pointed  over  her  shoulder.  His  eyes  followed  her 
finger,  and  he  saw  the  prostrate  figure. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked  in  a  lower  tone.  "  Has  Jim  got 
hurt?  " 

"  He  has  been  shot,"  she  answered.  "  Murdered.  He 
is  dying! " 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   VILLAINY  OF  MR.   CHRISTOPHER  SKEIN 

The  little  colony  of  gold-seekers  in  the  valley  below  were, 
one  and  all,  early  risers.  Just  as  the  downward-glancing 
rays  of  the  sun  smote  the  waters  of  the  Blue  River  for  the 
first  time,  gleaming  like  silver  in  the  deep  pools,  and  at  the 
miniature  waterfalls,  they  commenced  to  troop  out  of  their 
shanties,  filling  the  quiet  morning  air  with  their  gruff 
salutations  and  badinage.  On  the  whole,  they  were  a 
sociable  lot,  with  —  for  the  time  and  the  country  —  a  strong 
element  of  respectability.  There  were  black  sheep,  and 
plenty  of  them,  but  they  were  in  a  minority,  and  the 
knowledge  of  it  was  in  itself  a  restraint.  There  was  a  little 
shooting  —  not  much,  and  plenty  of  gambling.  But  those 
who  indulged  in  them  were  looked  upon  with  a  certain 
coldness,  and  were  made  somehow  to  feel  themselves 
delinquents. 

In  little  groups  the  men  sauntered  down  to  their  claims, 
with  their  tools  over  their  shoulders.  Suddenly  there  was  a 
pause.  One  or  two  were  looking  up  at  the  little  shanty 
perched  on  the  edge  of  the  precipice  high  above  their  heads. 
Others  were  trying  to  make  out  some  nearer  object,  a  black 
crawling  figure  descending  the  rough  path  with  slow,  pain- 
ful movements. 

"  Wonder  how  Jim  and  his  pard  got  on  last  night/' 
remarked  one.    "  Jim  'ud  have  a  high  old  time,  I  reckon!  " 

91 


92  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

"  It's  odds  against  the  little  'un  having  many  of  those 
greenbacks  left.  I  played  poker  with  Jim,  and  it  was 
tolerable  expensive!  "  grunted  another. 

"  I  shouldn't  reckon  that  there  little  'un  was  a  softy 
with  the  pictures/'  said  a  man  from  the  rear.  "  Them  as  is 
weak  in  the  arm  and  undersized  are  generally  fairly  quick 
with  their  fingers.    Hullo!    what  the  h— 11' s  that?  " 

The  little  black  figure  was  becoming  more  distinct.  They 
all  stopped  and  watched  it  draw  nearer  and  nearer. 

"  By  Gad!  "  cried  the  first  speaker.  "  It's  Jim's  pard! 
All  that's  left  of  him,  anyhow!  " 

Mr.  Skein  it  was!  His  face  was  bruised  and  livid  with 
the  marks  of  Mr.  Hamilton's  fist,  and  streaked  with  blood 
from  the  fierce  scratchings  of  the  brambles  into  which  he 
had  fallen.  His  clothes  were  torn,  and  one  side  of  him  was 
coated  with  soft  red  clay.  He  walked  quite  lame,  and  every 
now  and  then  he  fell  forward  on  his  hands  as  though  his 
legs  were  powerless  to  support  him.  Altogether  he  was  a 
most  pitiful-looking  object.  The  men  who  watched  him 
were  of  rough  calibre,  and  as  he  drew  near  he  was  greeted 
with  a  perfect  shout  of  laughter.  They  were  kindly  enough, 
most  of  them,  but  the  man's  plight  was  irresistible.  Peal 
after  peal  of  laughter  shook  the  still,  sunlit  air.  But  he  did 
not  hesitate.  He  came  steadily  on,  and  as  he  drew  near 
enough  for  them  to  see  his  face  and  its  expression,  somehow 
the  laughter  died  away.  An  utter  silence  took  its  place. 
They  watched  him  as  though  fascinated.  Speechless  he 
dragged  himself  on  until  he  stood  before  them.  Then, 
without  a  word,  he  dropped  down  and  rolled  over  like  a 
log. 

They  crowded  around  him,  and  Dan  Cooper  pushed  his 
way  through  with  a  flask  in  his  hand. 

"  I  reckon  Jim's  been  too  almighty  rough  on  him,"  he 
remarked,  drawing  the  stopper.    "  It's  a  d d  shame!  " 


THE   VILLAINY   OF   MR.   SKEIN  93 

There  was  a  gruff  murmur  of  assent.  Dan  stooped  down, 
lifted  the  fainting  man's  head  with  his  own  broad  palm,  and 
passed  some  of  the  liquid  down  his  throat.  The  result  was 
marvellous.  He  gave  a  little  groan,  and  in  a  moment  he 
sat  up. 

Again  here  was  a  tendency  to  mirth  as  they  watched 
him  sitting  straddle-legged  upon  a  little  mound  of  gravel, 
with  great  tears  forced  out  of  his  eyes  by  the  strength  of  the 
liquor,  rolling  down  his  cheeks,  and  noticed  the  details  of 
his  pitiful  condition ;  and  again,  something  which  came  into 
his  face  with  the  first  gleam  of  awakening  consciousness, 
checked  them.  They  began  to  have  a  dim  apprehension 
that  the  tale  this  man  would  have  to  tell  would  be  no 
ordinary  one.    They  were  right. 

He  still  did  not  speak,  sitting  there  and  blinking  round 
upon  them  in  an  odd,  dazed  sort  of  way.  They  were 
getting  impatient,  and  one  or  two  of  them  began  to  fire  off 
questions. 

"  What  did  he  maul  you  for,  eh?  " 

"  Reckon  it  was  Jim  as  did  it!  " 

"  Where's  Jim,  anyway?  " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Skein  turned  a  white, 
ghastly  face  up  to  them,  and  the  nearest  held  their 
breaths. 

"  Jim's  dead!  "    he  said  slowly. 

There  was  a  little  murmur  amongst  them,  but  no  surprise. 
They  had  expected  something  of  the  sort.  It  is  probable 
that  if  Christopher  Skein  had  boldly  declared  that  he  had 
shot  him  in  self-defence,  and  merely  pointed  to  his  miserable 
state,  they  would  have  slapped  him  on  the  back  and  gone  to 
their  work.  No  one  would  have  dreamed  of  blaming  him. 
But  unfortunately  he  did  not  appreciate  the  camp  tempera- 
ment, and  he  knew  nothing  of  their  habits.  He  had  a  legal 
and  conventional  mind.    Since  the  first  gleams  of  day  fight 


94     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

he  had  been  lying  on  his  back  at  the  bottom  of  the  gorge, 
planning  how  to  escape  from  his  horrible  plight. 

"  Did  you  shoot  him?  "    asked  a  voice  from  the  rear. 

Skein  looked  up.  His  eyes  were  kindled  with  a  frightened 
yet  malignant  light.    He  shuddered  where  he  sat. 

"  I  shoot  him!  No!  I  had  no  firearms.  Besides,  he  was 
my  pard.  We  were  pals.  I  shoot  him !  Who  dare  say  so?  " 
he  whined. 

They  looked  at  one  another,  perplexed.  Dan  Cooper 
elbowed  himself  to  the  front,  and  constituted  himself  cross- 
examiner. 

"  If  you  didn't,  who  did?  "  he  asked.  "  Don't  be  afraid, 
we  ain't  going  to  hurt  you.  Don't  sit  there  shivering  like  a 
blarmed  kitten.  Open  your  mouth  like  a  man,  and  tell  us 
all  about  it." 

Skein  looked  up  and  faced  them.  What  little  courage  he 
had,  he  made  a  desperate  effort  to  summon  to  his  aid. 
Now  or  never  he  must  win  his  safety. 

"  It's  made  me  feel  all  broke  up,"  he  commenced,  looking 
around  to  try  and  find  a  little  sympathy  in  their  hard,  stolid 
faces,  "all  broke  up  anyhow!  Jim  and  me  had  a  real 
friendly  evening  together  last  night,  and  he  got  telling  me 
things  about  himself  as  confidential  as  could  be.  He'd  been 
a  bad  lot,  he  said,  but  he  was  about  sick  of  going  on  anyhow. 
He  was  going  to  chuck  this  up  by-and-by,  and  make  a  fresh 
start.  Then  he  told  me  something  I  couldn't  quite  under- 
stand, about  a  very  valuable  paper  he  said  he  had  with  him. 
It  warn't  money,  but  it  was  worth  a  good  deal  more  than 
money.  He  seemed  to  expect  that  it  was  going  to  bring 
him  in  a  fortune  by-and-by.  And  yet,  he  said,  he  was 
almost  afraid  to  carry  it  about  with  him,  for  a  small  ring  of 
them  had  caught  scent  of  it,  and  they  were  on  his  track  at 
San  Francisco.  One  of  them  was  a  woman,  he  told  me,  and 
then  he  broke  off,  and  he  didn't  talk  to  me  any  more  for  a 


THE   VILLAINY   OF   MR.   SKEIN  95 

good  bit,  but  kept  muttering  to  himself  and  swearing  some- 
thing awful." 

He  paused  and  looked  round  for  encouragement.  Every- 
one was  listening  most  intently.  Then  he  glanced  quickly 
up  towards  the  little  shanty  at  the  head  of  the  gorge, 
and  shuddered. 

"  Get  on/'  said  one  of  the  men  impatiently.  "We  want 
to  know  the  end." 

Skein  blinked  rapidly  once  or  twice,  and  continued: 

"  Well,  he  got  talking  again  soon,  and  after  swearing  at 
her  something  awful,  he  told  me  something  which  scared 
me.  His  wife  was  here;  had  followed  him  from  San  Fran- 
cisco, he  said.  She  was  up  in  yonder  shanty  with  a  chap  he 
called  the  Britisher." 

He  pointed  to  Bryan's  shanty,  high  over  their  heads, 
with  quivering  finger.  A  little  chorus  of  exclamations 
ensued. 

"  Little  Bones  allowed  he  saw  a  stranger  up  there!  " 

"  How  long  has  she  been  there,  anyway?  " 

"  Reckon  that's  why  that  crafty  Britisher  built  his  shanty 
so  far  away  from  the  rest  of  us!  " 

"  Guess  he  thought  us  chaps  weren't  quite  the  sort  for 
lady's  society!  " 

"  Go  on,  anyway." 

"  Ay,  go  on!  " 

"Goon!" 

Skein  half  closed  his  eyes  and  continued: 

"  If  the  man  you  call  the  Britisher  camped  up  there 
expecting  her,  Jim  camped  opposite  for  the  same  reason. 
He  was  on  the  watch.  But  you  know  Jim's  little  weakness. 
He  would  drink!  He  was  half  drunk  all  last  night,  and  I 
wasn't  up  to  taking  all  he  said  in  downright  earnest.  And 
so  we  lay  there  with  the  door  wide  open.  I  don't  know 
what  time  it  was,  but  I  was  woke  up  in  the  night  with  a 


96  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

revolver  shot  which  seemed  to  be  almost  in  my  ear.  I 
jumped  up  quick  as  lightning.  Jim  was  lying  on  his  side 
groaning,  and  the  bally  place  was  all  full  of  smoke,  and  just 
inside  the  door  a  woman  was  standing,  with  big  dark  eyes, 
and  a  smoking  revolver  in  her  hand.  I  went  for  her,  and 
she  hit  me  across  the  face  with  the  revolver.  I  guess  she 
hadn't  a  shot  left,  or  I  should  have  had  it.  Then  she 
turned,  and  skimmed  away  like  a  deer.  I  followed  her 
blindly,  and  then  seemed  for  a  moment  as  though  I  were 

treading  on  air,  and  over  that  d d  chasm  I  went.    She 

must  have  led  me  there  on  purpose.  I  lay  there  for  an  hour 
or  two  before  I  could  move.  Then  I  clambered  up  to  the 
shanty  and  peeped  in.  Jim  was  lying  there  as  dead  as  a 
door-nail,  and  I  believe  by  the  hang  of  his  coat  that  his 
pocket  had  been  cut  out.  I  was  just  going  in  when  I  heard 
the  door  of  the  opposite  shanty  open  and  bang  to.  I  don't 
mind  admitting,  mates,"  he  wound  up,  glancing  round, 
"  that  I  bolted.  I  couldn't  have  tackled  the  Englishman 
and  the  girl  alone  if  they  had  set  on  to  me,  and  I  thought  — 
well,  I'll  hook  it  down  and  tell  the  chaps.  They'll  know 
what  to  do  about  it.    So,  down  I  came." 

There  was  a  short  silence,  and  a  general  desire  to  get  a 
good  view  of  the  man  to  whose  story  they  had  been  listen- 
ing. They  crowded  round  him,  and  looked  over  one 
another's  shoulders.  He  sat  there  blinking  up  at  them,  a 
sufficiently  miserable-looking  object.  He  had  been  roughly 
treated,  there  was  no  doubt  about  that. 

Dan  Cooper,  who  was  in  the  front  rank,  was  the  first  to 
speak. 

"  This  is  an  awkward  story  of  yours,  mate,"  he  said.  "  I 
guess  you're  willing  to  take  your  davy  on  it?  " 

"  I'll  swear  to  every  word  of  it!  "  Skein  declared,  lifting 
up  a  skinny  little  hand.    "  It's  the  bally  truth!  " 

"  All  right.    Now,  boys,"  continued  Dan,  turning  round, 


THE  VILLAINY    OF    MR.  SKEIN  97 

"  what  I  propose  is  this :    that  we  draw  lots,  and  say  six  of 
us  goes  up  and  looks  into  this.    How's  that?  " 

There  was  a  hoarse  murmur  of  assent.  A  sheet  of  paper 
was  produced  by  one  of  the  men,  and  torn  into  slender 
strips.  Six  pieces  were  marked  with  a  cross;  the  re- 
mainder were  blank.  Dan  Cooper  alone  did  not  draw.  By 
universal  consent,  he  had  been  called  upon  to  boss  the 
thing. 

"I'm  waiting,  mates!"  he  announced.  "But  just 
remember  this.  There  aren't  got  to  be  no  whimpering  and 
grumbling  afterwards.  They'll  be  seven  of  us  go.  What 
four  of  us  say  and  holds  on  to,  is  the  gospel  law  of  Blue 
River  Valley!    Is  that  so?" 

There  was  a  chorus  of  assents.  Dan  Cooper  nodded, 
shook  up  the  papers  which  he  had  been  collecting,  and  dis- 
tributed them.  One  by  one  the  men  who  had  drawn  a  cross 
stepped  out  silently  from  the  others,  and  ranged  themselves 
aside.  When  the  drawing  was  done,  their  leader  addressed 
them  briefly. 

"  Now  then,  chaps,"  he  said,  "  you  want  first  of  all  to 
look  to  your  shooting  irons.  If  we've  got  to  get  the  girl, 
the  Britisher  may  cut  up  rough,  and  he  ain't  exactly  an 
infant.  I'll  allow  I  ain't  seen  him  shoot,  but  he's  as  strong 
as  they  make  'em,  and  if  he  feels  like  it,  he'd  fight  if  there 
were  twenty  of  us.    All  prepared,  are  you?    Well,  git,  then." 

The  seven  men  filed  slowly  away  up  the  gorge;  seven 
hard,  resolute-looking  men,  to  whom  the  life  of  a  human 
being  was  as  light  a  thing  as  the  leaves  which  fluttered  down 
from  the  trees  on  to  their  heads.  Up  in  the  clear  blue  sky 
above  them  a  lark  had  suddenly  soared  up,  pouring  out  a 
glad  little  song  to  the  sunlit  air.  And  down  below  Skein 
sat  still  on  his  stone  with  his  head  between  his  hands,  fight- 
ing with  the  hideous  fear  which  seemed  to  be  stamped  upon 
his  white,  blanched  face.     Up  in  the  sky,  away  in    the 


98  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT  SNARE 

bosom  of  the  dark  woods,  further  still  on  the  slopes  of  the 
snow-capped  Sierras,  down  on  the  sandy  ground  beneath 
his  feet  where  a  blue  harebell  waved  to  and  fro  in  the  breeze ; 
wherever  he  looked  he  saw  the  same  ghastly  sight.  A  man 
lying  on  his  side  with  his  hand  clasped  to  his  breast,  and  the 
blood  oozing  through  his  fingers,  and  dripping  on  to  the 
floor.  Look  at  his  face ;  lips  parted  in  an  awful  curse,  the 
eyes  glaring  white  with  the  red  fire  of  a  consuming  hatred. 
Oh,  how  had  he  dared  to  do  it?  How  had  he  dared  to  do 
it?  Ah,  what  was  that?  It  was  only  the  soft  breeze  playing 
amongst  the  tree-tops,  the  sweet  music  of  a  summer  morn- 
ing. Why  had  it  sounded  to  him  like  a  shriek  of  horror 
from  blanched  lips?  Was  he  to  be  tormented  with  this  for 
ever?  Were  the  simplest  sounds  and  the  sweetest  sights 
ever  to  wring  his  heart  with  these  awful  memories?  Was 
this  indeed  the  Judgment  of  God? 


CHAPTER   XIII 

A  JURY  OF  SEVEN 

The  Englishman  and  the  girl  were  alone  in  the  shanty. 
The  echoes  of  his  horrified  words  had  scarcely  died  away. 
Murdered!  Shot!  Bryan  was  dazed.  He  was  not  a  man 
of  particularly  swift  perceptions,  and  the  shock  of  the  thing 
was  great. 

He  stooped  down  and  felt  the  prostrate  man's  heart. 
Then  he  glanced  at  the  wound,  and  in  doing  so  noticed  the 
disarrangement  of  the  coat. 

"  The  man  has  been  robbed!"  he  said,  looking  up 
quickly.    "  Who  did  it?  " 

She  looked  half  fearfully  around  her. 

"  No  one  robbed  him,"  she  answered.  "  I  cut  his  coat 
open.  We  were  alone  afterwards.  He  told  me  to.  He  gave 
me  something." 

"  Who  shot  him?  " 

"  The  stranger  —  the  little  man  with  the  squint  who  came 
on  a  mule  yesterday  morning.    I  told  you  about  him." 

"  And  what  on  earth  were  you  doing  here?  "    he  asked. 

"I  —  I  scarcely  know,"  she  faltered.  "  I  was  excited  by 
what  you  told  me  yesterday,  by  the  thought  that  this  man 
might  be  the  man  for  whom  you  were  searching.  I  could 
not  sleep  for  thinking  of  it,  so  I  put  on  my  clothes  and  crept 
out.    I  wanted  to  get  here  and  look  in.    If  his  coat  had  been 


100  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

lying  where  I  could  have  got  at  it,  I  think  I  might  have  tried 
to  steal  that  paper.  It  was  for  you,  Bryan.  You  are  not 
angry  with  me,  dear?  " 

"  Tell  me  what  you  saw,"  he  answered,  keeping  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  her.  Somehow  his  look  chilled  her.  She  won- 
dered at  it,  in  a  vague  sort  of  way  she  resented  it. 

"  It  was  very  dark,"  she  began.  "  I  was  able  to  get  quite 
close  to  the  shanty.  When  I  was  a  few  yards  away,  I  saw 
that  there  was  still  a  light,  and  I  heard  voices.  I  stayed 
behind  a  bush,  and  it  was  a  long  time  before  I  dared  go  any 
nearer.  I  just  wanted  to  see  who  it  was  with  him,  and  then 
I  was  coming  away.  At  last  I  did  see.  It  was  the  stranger. 
He  and  Jim  were  nearly  drunk,  most  quite.  I  couldn't  hear 
much  what  they  were  saying,  but  I  made  out  that  they  had 
gone  pards  in  Jim's  claim.  I  was  just  coming  away  when  I 
heard  Jim  begin  to  talk  about  some  secret  that  was  worth  a 
a  fortune  to  him.  The  moon  was  out  now,  and  I  could  see 
the  stranger's  face.  He  was  listening  to  every  word  Jim 
said,  with  his  eyes  gleaming  and  the  strangest  expression  on 
his  face.  He  whispered  something  to  Jim,  and  Jim  looked 
real  mad.  Just  then  an  idea  flashed  into  my  mind.  This 
stranger  knew  all  about  the  secret  of  Jim's.  He  had  come 
to  try  and  steal  the  papers,  or  get  some  more  information. 
I  remembered  how  odd  he  had  seemed  in  the  morning.  He 
knew  nothing  about  mining.  I  wondered  then  what  he  had 
come  for.  I  felt  kind  of  frightened  at  the  thought,  and  took 
a  step  forward.  They  must  have  heard  me.  I  saw  Jim  hand 
the  stranger  his  revolver;  Jim  seemed  to  be  too  drunk  to 
shoot,  himself.  The  stranger  came  to  the  door,  and  then 
suddenly  turned  round.  I  heard  Jim  cry  out,  and  then  there 
was  a  shot.  I  rushed  to  the  door.  Jim  was  on  his  back,  and 
the  stranger  was  staggering  away  from  him.  Jim  had  hit 
him,  I  guess,  and  then  he  saw  me,  and  called  out.  The 
stranger  was  scared  to  death.    He  looked  at  me  as  though 


A  JURY   OF   SEVEN  101 

I  were  a  ghost,  and  then  he  rushed  past  me,  and  I  believe  he 
fell  over  the  gorge." 

Bryan  stepped  backwards  and  walked  to  the  edge  of 
the  chasm  which  fronted  the  shanty.  He  looked  over  the 
side,  and  clambered  down  a  few  yards.  Then  he  came  back 
again. 

"  There  is  no  one  there  now/'  he  said  briefly.    "  Go  on." 

The  girl's  voice  dropped.  She  glanced  towards  the 
prostrate  figure  which  lay  prone  upon  the  bare  floor,  the 
body  slightly  doubled  up,  and  the  arms  stretched  out.  She 
shuddered.  She  had  never  seen  any  one  dead.  Was  it 
really  true  that  his  ears  were  deaf  for  ever  and  his  eyes 
blind?  There  was  no  need,  then,  for  her  to  lower  her 
voice.    Yet  she  did  so. 

"  I  went  in  and  stayed  with  him,"  she  continued.  "  He 
gave  me  this,"  she  held  out  a  little  oilskin  case,  "  and  he 
told  me  something  about  the  papers  it  contained  and  how  to 
get  the  others.  He  told  me,  too,  that  he  had  really  married 
me  in  San  Francisco.  It  didn't  make  things  any  better; 
rather  worse,  I  guess.  But  he  told  me,  anyway.  Won't  you 
take  the  case,  Bryan?    It's  yours,  dear." 

He  pushed  it  away  from  him. 

11  Not  now,"  he  answered. 

"  You're  —  you're  not  angry  with  me?  "    she  pleaded. 

He  looked  very  much  like  it.  He  had  listened  to  her  with 
a  dark,  heavy  frown  parting  his  forehead,  and  now  he  was 
silent.  He  had  not  the  imagination  to  appreciate  what  she 
had  done  for  him ;  that  her  stealthy  journey  into  the  night, 
her  listening,  even  her  presence  with  the  dying  man,  all 
were  for  his  sake.  That  oilskin  case  which  she  had  offered 
to  him  so  timidly,  doubtless  contained  what  he  had  come 
from  England  in  search  of  —  fortune,  name,  perhaps  rank! 
Even  to  himself  his  silence  appeared  brutal.  She  had  done 
all  this  for  him;  and  he  could  not  even  bear  to  think  of  it. 


102  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

He  could  think  of  nothing  but  of  the  man  who  lay  there 
with  his  white  face  —  never  so  human,  so  free  from  brutality 
before  —  lightly  touched  by  a  long  ray  of  sunlight. 

He  had  heard  the  girl's  story  —  every  word  —  and 
weighed  and  measured  it  up  ruthlessly,  utterly  ignoring  its 
pathetic  side,  and  the  dark,  pleading  eyes  filled  now  with 
tears.  He  thought  only  of  the  facts,  and  the  facts  were  ugly. 
His  own  judgment  he  was  reserving.  What  would  be  the 
judgment  of  others?  It  all  depended  upon  the  stranger  — 
whether  he  had  been  seen  with  Jim,  and  whether  he  had 
fled.  He  himself  had  not  set  eyes  upon  him,  had  not  heard 
of  him.  What  if  he  were  a  myth;  just  an  invention  of 
Myra's?  The  facts  were  more  than  ugly  then.  The  man 
had  been  shot,  and  apparently  robbed.  The  results  of  the 
robbery  —  Myra  had  called  it  a  gift,  was  that  likely?  — 
were  in  her  possession.  Even  accepting  her  own  story  as 
true,  putting  away  that  other  vague,  awful  thought  which 
had  crept  into  his  mind,  even  then  a  little  craft  on  the  part 
of  the  stranger  might  easily  place  her,  and,  through  her, 
him  in  a  terrible  position. 

The  close  air  of  the  little  shanty  suddenly  became  stifling. 
He  turned  abruptly  round  and  walked  outside.  Myra  crept 
after  him  with  a  heavy  heart.  It  seemed  a  little  hard  that 
he  could  not  speak  a  single  kind  word  to  her.  She  sat  down 
on  a  log  a  few  yards  away  and  cried  quietly  to  herself. 

The  Englishman  leaned  against  the  wall  of  the  shanty, 
and,  with  folded  arms  and  heavily  knit  brows,  gazed  down 
the  valley.  The  more  he  thought  this  affair  over,  the  less  he 
liked  it.  It  was  his  duty  to  go  down  and  tell  the  others 
what  had  happened.  He  must  admit  that  this  girl  had  been 
living  with  him,  that  he  had  broken  their  rude  laws;  he 
who  in  a  sort  of  stubborn  exclusiveness  had  held  himself 
aloof  from  all  of  them,  must  answer  their  questions,  perhaps 
come  under  their  suspicion.    But,  to  do  him  justice,  it  was 


A   JURY   OF   SEVEN  103 

less  of  himself  he  thought  than  of  the  man  who  lay  within 
the  shanty.  It  was  an  awful  thing!  Poor  chap!  It  filled 
him  with  a  sort  of  annoyance  to  see  how  cloudless  and 
bright  was  the  sky,  and  how  gaily  the  larks  were  singing  in 
the  warm  bright  air.  The  whole  world  seemed  gay  and  joy- 
ous, as  though  nothing  out  of  the  common  had  happened. 
And  there,  with' his  face  bathed  in  the  dancing  sunshine, 
and  his  sightless  eyes  turned  towards  the  dazzling  sky,  a 
man  was  fighting  his  gloomy  way  through  the  Valley  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death!  What  a  past  mistress  in  the  art  of 
mockery  was  Nature! 

The  Englishman  was  suddenly  recalled  from  his  abstrac- 
tion. His  eyes  resting  idly  upon  the  landscape  had  been 
attracted  by  moving  objects.  There  were  men  filing  their 
way  up  the  gorge.  He  counted  ^hem;  one,  two,  three,  four, 
five,  six,  seven.  Seven  of  them.  Dan  Cooper  leading,  and 
close  at  hand  now.  They  had  heard  of  the  murder,  then. 
There  could  be  no  other  explanation  of  their  approach. 
From  whom?  It  was  strange  that  they  should  have  heard 
of  it. 

He  glanced  round  towards  Myra.  Should  he  warn  her? 
Better  not,  perhaps.  Her  defence  should  not  be  robbed  of  a 
single  feature  of  ingenuousness.  She  must  tell  her  own 
story.    Well  for  her  —  and  for  him  —  if  they  believed  it ! 

The  men  were  close  at  hand  now.  One  by  one  they 
clambered  up  the  side  of  the  gorge.  One  by  one  they 
gravely  saluted  the  Englishman,  and  then  glanced  curiously 
at  the  girl,  who  had  scarcely  looked  up  at  their  approach. 

"  Morning/ '  said  Dan  Cooper,  addressing  the  Englishman. 
"  Reckon  this  is  a  bad  business." 

"  Very  bad.   Are  you  going  in  to  look  at  him?  " 

"  Reckon  so." 

They  all  trooped  into  the  little  shanty,  completely  filling 


104  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

it.  Dan  Cooper  removed  his  cap  as  he  entered,  and  the 
others  immediately  followed  suit.  He  knelt  down  and  made 
a  brief  examination. 

"  Seems  to  me  he  ain't  quite  dead/'  he  remarked,  turning 
to  the  Englishman,  whose  huge  form  filled  the  doorway. 

"  I  don't  think  he  is,"  Bryan  answered.  "  He  is  bleeding 
internally,  though,  I'm  afraid,  and  if  so  he  can't  last  long." 

"  That's  so." 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  and  for  a  moment  every  one  looked 
curiously  around.  Even  Jim's  simplest  domestic  articles 
were  objects  of  a  certain  interest  now.  One  of  the  men 
picked  up  an  open  tobacco  pouch,  and  filled  his  pipe. 
Silently  it  was  passed  round.  Then  they  all  trooped  out 
again  into  the  sunshine. 

"  Where's  the  gal?  "    asked  Dan  Cooper. 

She  was  sitting  in  the  old  place,  and  met  all  their  won- 
dering gazes  with  a  half-contemptuous  indifference.  She 
was  very  pale,  and  had  evidently  been  crying.  Apart  from 
that  she  exhibited  no  concern. 

They  formed  a  sort  of  semicircle  around  her.  The  Eng- 
lishman remained  outside  it,  leaning  still  against  the  wall 
of  the  shanty.  His  eyes  were  half  closed,  but  he  listened  to 
every  word  with  the  keenest  interest. 

Dan  Cooper  was  spokesman.  His  voice  was  gruff,  but 
it  sounded  kindly.  He  was  not  so  much  in  love  with  his 
position  as  when  he  started. 

"  Is  there  anything  you'd  like  to  tell  us  about  this  'ere 
business?  "  he  said,  jerking  his  head  backward  towards 
the  shanty.  "  The  chaps  down  yonder  have  sent  me  and 
my  mates  to  sorter  clear  the  matter  up.  If  you've  anything 
to  say,  we're  ready  to  hear  it." 

She  dried  her  eyes  and  looked  up. 

"  I  can  tell  you  how  it  happened,  if  you  like,"  she  said 
simply.    "  I  guess  you  want  to  hear." 


A  JURY   OF   SEVEN  105 

"  That's  so,  indeed,"  was  the  answer.  "  Eh,  mates?  " 
There  was  a  gruff  chorus  of  assent.  The  men  sat  down  on 
logs,  dragging  them  up  from  a  short  distance  away,  and 
smoked  their  pipes  in  stolid  silence.  The  girl  in  the  middle 
lifted  her  face  towards  Dan'  Cooper,  and  told  her  story. 
Just  as  she  commenced,  the  lark  shot  up  again  from  the 
gorge  and  sang  over  her  head. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

THE  TOUCH  OF  FIRE 

She  told  her  story  in  a  few  plain  sentences,  without  much 
emotion,  but  with  a  direct  simplicity  which  had  its  effect 
upon  her  hearers.  It  had  not  occurred  to  them  to  doubt 
Skein's  tale.  They  had  expected  without  a  doubt  to  listen 
to  a  confession,  and  a  piteous  plea  for  mercy.  This  was  far 
more  surprising.  They  stole  glances  at  one  another,  and 
then  exchanged  whispers.  The  Englishman,  although  he 
still  stood  aloof,  noticed  all  this,  and  began  to  suspect  some- 
thing of  the  truth.  Myra,  on  the  other  hand,  was  utterly 
unconscious  of  it. 

She  finished  her  relation  —  as  much  as  she  thought  it 
concerned  these  men  to  know —  and  then  rose  to  her  feet. 
She  did  not  choose  to  remain  where  she  was  to  be  the  cyno- 
sure of  all  these  curious  eyes.  She  would  go  back  to  her 
own  shanty.  She  looked  across  at  Bryan;  perhaps  he 
would  come  too.  But  he  made  no  sign.  He  did  not  even 
look  towards  her.  He  seemed  to  be  listening  to  what  that 
little  group  of  men  now  gathered  close  together  were  saying. 

She  took  a  few  steps  down  the  gorge.  The  men  looked 
up  at  her  movement,  and  one  of  them  hurried  across  to- 
wards her.  He  laid  his  coarse,  heavy  hand  upon  her 
shoulder. 

"  I  reckon  we  ain't  exactly  through  yet,  miss.  You'll 
have  to  wait  a  bit." 

106 


THE   TOUCH   OF   FIRE  107 

She  drew  herself  away  from  his  touch,  and  looked  round 
in  surprise. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  don't  under- 
stand. Is  there  anything  else  you  want  to  ask  me?  If  so, 
be  quick,  please." 

She  turned  a  proud,  displeased  face  upon  the  little  group, 
holding  her  skirts  in  one  hand,  and  the  bough  of  an  alder- 
bush,  by  means  of  which  she  was  steadying  herself,  in  the 
other.  It  was  a  little  scene  by  no  means  lacking  in  dramatic 
force.  She  was  standing  on  the  very  verge  of  a  precipice, 
and  her  thin,  supple  figure  was  outlined  with  wonderful 
vividness  against  the  background  of  blue  sky.  Her  head 
was  thrown  back,  and  her  hair,  all  disarranged  with  bending 
over  the  wounded  man,  was  streaming  down  in  a  picturesque 
confusion.  Fronting  her  was  the  little  platform  of  green 
turf,  with  its  background  of  dark  pine-woods,  on  which  Mr. 
Hamilton  had  built  his  residence.  The  men,  into  whose 
stolid  faces  a  gleam  of  admiration  had  crept,  were  grouped, 
some  sitting,  some  standing,  around  a  fallen  pine-tree,  with 
their  eyes  curiously  fixed  upon  her.  A  few  yards  away 
leaned  still  against  the  shanty  the  Englishman  with  folded 
arms,  awaiting  events. 

Dan  Cooper  stepped  a  little  forward  from  the  rest,  and 
addressed  her.  There  was  an  odd  little  smile  at  the  corner 
of  his  lips,  the  mystery  of  which  none  save  himself  could 
have  explained. 

"  I  reckon  you  don't  quite  understand  how  things  hang," 
he  said.  "  Perhaps  it's  only  fair  to  tell  you.  Skein  has 
been  along  this  morning,  down  yonder,"  he  added,  pointing 
with  his  pipe  into  the  valley,  "  and  he  allows  that  this  little 
job  was  your  doing.  That's  why  we're  here.  That's  why 
me  and  my  mates  is  kinder  taken  aback  with  this  story  of 
yours." 

She  looked  at  him  bewildered.  It  was  hard  to  realize  in 
a  moment. 


108     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

"  My  doing?  My  doing?  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  he 
allows  that  I  shot  Jim?    Is  that  it?  " 

"  That's  so." 

Her  bosom  heaved,  and  her  dark  eyes  became  distended. 
She  looked  them  all  scornfully  in  the  face. 

"  He  lies!  "  she  answered,  without  a  quiver  in  her  face. 
11  Go  and  fetch  him  here,  and  let  him  tell  his  story  before 
me!" 

The  suggestion  seemed  to  find  favour  with  them.  It 
appealed  to  certain  sportsmanlike  instincts  common  to  all 
mankind.  Let  them  have  it  out  face  to  face.  It  was  not  a 
bad  idea. 

They  whispered  for  awhile  together.  The  Englishman 
stepped  forward  and  interfered  for  the  first  time. 

"  Shall  I  go  and  fetch  him?  "  he  said. 

Dan  Cooper  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  thanks,"  he  said.  "  I'll  send  one  of  my  own  mates. 
It'll  seem  fairer.    He's  a  skeery  sort." 

The  Englishman  turned  away,  but  he  did  not  return  to 
his  old  place.    He  went  over  to  Myra. 

"  I  shouldn't  mind  if  I  were  you,"  he  said  gruffly.  "  Sit 
down  and  rest  for  a  bit.    It'll  be  all  right." 

He  was  by  no  means  so  sure  of  it,  but  he  wanted  to  say 
something  comforting.  His  doubts  of  Myra  had  been 
largely  founded  upon  an  idea  of  his  own  —  that  the  man 
Skein,  of  whom  she  had  spoken,  was  a  myth.  The  fact  that 
he  really  did  exist  wonderfully  strengthened  his  confidence 
in  her. 

She  smiled  vaguely  but  gratefully.  As  yet  she  could  not 
quite  realize  what  this  thing  was  that  was  happening.  It 
seemed  like  a  nightmare:  the  little  ring  of  men  in  their 
rough  miner's  clothes  and  coarse,  curious  faces  all  turned 
upon  her,  the  shanty  with  its  wide-open  door,  and  the  figure 
of  the  man  who  had  been  the  horror  of  her  life,  lying  pros- 


THE   TOUCH   OF   FIRE  109 

trate  within.  She  looked  across  at  the  valley  bathed  in 
sunlight,  with  the  river  creeping  through  it  like  a  vein  of 
silver,  at  the  distant  hills  and  the  rolling  plain.  Nothing 
had  changed.  It  was  not  a  dream.  She  was  really  being 
accused  of  this  hideous  thing,  and  for  his  sake  as  well  as  her 
own,  she  must  be  brave.  She  walked  back  with  him  to  the 
place  where  she  had  been  sitting  before,  and  sat  down.  He 
remained  by  her  side  for  a  few  minutes.  Then  he  walked 
over  and  joined  the  other  men.  There  was  no  reason  why 
he  should  hold  aloof  from  them,  and  he  wanted  to  hear 
what  they  had  to  say.  Dan  Cooper  had  gone  himself  for 
Skein. 

It  was  a  wearisome  wait.  The  sun  mounted  higher  and 
higher  in  the  heavens,  and  the  men  drew  back  into  the 
shade  of  the  wood.  Four  of  them  were  playing  cards  — 
they  had  found  a  pack  in  the  shanty  —  and  the  other  two 
stretched  themselves  out  and  fell  fast  asleep.  The  English- 
man and  Myra  sat  side  by  side,  talking  only  now  and  then. 

Once  she  whispered  to  him : 

"  Bryan  —  presently,  not  now,  I  want  you  to  look  at 
these  papers.  They  are  not  all,  but  I  know  how  to  get  the 
rest.    Fancy  their  belonging  to  you!  " 

11  Did  he  really  give  them  to  you,  Myra?  " 

She  nodded. 

"  He  thought  that  I  was  coming  back  to  him,  and  he  said 
that  he'd  as  lief  I  had  them  as  any  one  else.  He  told  me  a 
lot  what  to  do." 

"  How  to  get  money  for  them,  I  suppose?  They  are 
worth  money,  you  know,  Myra  —  great  sums  of  money." 

"  I  guess  I  won't  worry  about  that,"  she  said.  "  I  don't 
want  money.    Not  while  I  have  you,  Bryan." 

His  face  clouded.  He  looked  away  towards  the  hills  with 
idle  eyes.  Was  he  glad  to  owe  the  future,  which  these 
papers  might  open  up  to  him,  to  this  girl?    At  the  first 


110  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

thought  he  could  not  make  up  his  mind.  Yet  he  thought 
not.  He  would  rather  have  paid  for  them,  fought  for  them, 
almost  even  stolen  them. 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm  with  a  sudden  gesture. 
There  was  a  note  of  triumph  in  her  tone,  but  also  a  note  of 
disappointment. 

"  See,  Bryan,  he  won't  come.  There's  Dan  Cooper 
alone!" 

The  Englishman's  eyes  followed  her  outstretched  finger. 
A  solitary  figure  was  scrambling  up  the  gorge  towards 
them.    It  was  Dan  Cooper  —  alone! 

The  sleepers  were  awakened,  and  the  card-players 
finished  up  their  game.  They  all  trooped  round  in  a  sort  of 
semicircle.  In  a  minute  or  two  Dan  Cooper  appeared.  His 
face  was  dark,  and  he  seemed  in  an  ill-temper. 

"  Mates,"  he  said,  "  the  little  'un,  Skein,  is  in  a  bad  way. 
He  seems  to  have  got  a  sort  of  fever.  Anyway,  I  couldn't 
drag  him  up  though  he  were  willing  to  come." 

There  was  a  short  silence.  Every  one  waited  to  know 
what  was  to  be  done. 

"  While  I  was  down  yonder,"  Dan  Cooper  continued, 
jerking  his  thumb  downward  in  the  direction  of  the  valley, 
"  I  remembered  that  poor  Jim's  coat  was  cut  open;  'pears 
as  though  he  had  been  robbed.  I  know  I've  heard  him  say 
that  he  carried  papers  or  something  valuable  about  with 
him.  Well,  the  question  seems  to  me  to  be,  who's  got  those 
papers?  Skein  ain't  got  'em,  'cause  I've  searched  him 
well.  How  about  you,  young  woman?  "  he  asked,  turning 
abruptly  towards  Myra. 

Her  cheeks  flushed. 

"  I  have  the  papers,"  she  said,  folding  her  hands  upon 
her  bosom.  "  Jim  gave  them  to  me  himself.  I  had  a  right 
to  them.    I  was  his  wife." 

There  was  a  dead  silence.    The  Englishman  looked  dis- 


THE   TOUCH   OF   FIRE  111 

turbed.    The  fact  of  Myra's  having  the  papers  seemed  to 
have  made  an  impression  upon  the  men. 

"  Have  you  any  writing  to  prove  that  you  were  his  wife?  " 
Dan  Cooper  asked. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  You  don't  wear  a  wedding-ring." 

"  I  threw  it  away/'  she  said,  in  a  low  tone.  "  Jim  never 
used  me  well." 

Dan  Cooper  turned  away  and  talked  to  the  men.  Bryan 
turned  pale.  Only  Myra  seemed  unmoved.  The  consulta- 
tion between  the  men  lasted  nearly  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 
Then  Dan  turned  round. 

"  My  mates  and  me  is  pretty  well  agreed/'  he  said  slowly, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  Myra.  "  We  sorter  think  that  you 
did  this  job.  If  you  were  a  man  we  should  string  you  up  on 
that  tree  like  winking.  But  we  none  of  us  quite  fancies 
hanging  a  woman,  and  we're  going  to  talk  it  over  quietly, 
what  to  do.    See?" 

He  left  off  suddenly,  and  affected  to  be  very  busy  filling 
his  pipe.  The  steady  look  in  that  girl's  dark  eyes  confused 
him. 

"  We  shall  take  you  down  with  us,  and  shut  you  up  until 
to-morrow,"  he  continued.  "  Reckon  we  shall  have  made 
up  our  minds  by  then.    Anyway,  get  ready  to  come  along." 

"  Hold  on  a  bit!" 

Dan  Cooper  had  laid  his  hand  upon  the  girl's  wrist.  At 
the  sound  of  the  imperative  voice,  he  looked  quickly  round. 
He  was  confronted  with  the  dark  muzzle  of  a  revolver  at 
full  cock. 

The  Englishman  was  standing  out  by  the  girl's  side. 
His  blue  eyes  were  flashing  with  anger,  and  there  was  a  set, 
firm  look  in  his  face  which  meant  mischief. 

"  Loose  that  girl!  "  he  thundered. 

Dan  Cooper  obeyed  at  once.     There  was  something 


112  THE  WORLD'S   GREAT  SNARE 

wonderfully  persuasive  about  that  shining  barrel  on  which 
the  sunlight  was  flashing.    • 

"  I  think  it's  about  time  for  me  to  say  a  word  or  two," 
Bryan  commenced  sternly.  "  The  girl's  not  having  fair 
play.  There's  no  more  evidence  against  her  than  against 
the  man  Skein.  Why  assume  her  guilty,  and  him  inno- 
cent? " 

Two  out  of  the  six  men  growled  a  surly  assent.  There 
had  not  been  the  unanimity  about  their  opinion  which  Dan 
Cooper  had  insinuated.    A  third  was  wavering. 

"  How  about  the  papers?  "  growled  Dan  Cooper,  casting 
a  furious  glance  behind  him. 

"  The  girl  told  the  truth,"  Bryan  continued.  "  The  man 
was  her  husband.  I  knew  it.  He  gave  her  the  papers.  I 
will  tell  you  the  story  of  Jim  Hamilton's  murder.  He 
carried  these  valuable  papers  with  him,  and  like  a  fool, 
when  he  was  in  liquor,  he  bragged  about  it.  This  mean 
hound,  Skein,  followed  him  here  after  them  and  nothing  else. 
That  is  why  he  goes  pards  with  Jim.  The  story  of  the 
murder  itself  you  know.  Afterwards  Skein  found  that  he 
could  not  escape  from  here  without  stores  and  supplies,  so 
he  made  up  this  lying  story,  and  when  he  is  challenged  to 
repeat  it  before  the  girl,  he  skulks  down  yonder,  afraid! 
What  do  you  say,  mates?  "  he  added,  turning  to  the  men. 
"  Doesn't  my  story  sound  likely?  " 

"  That's  so,  boss." 

"  Reckon  the  Britisher's  right." 

"  Guess  we'll  leave  the  girl  alone." 

Three  of  the  men  spoke  out  in  her  favour.  Dan  Cooper, 
throwing  an  evil  look  behind  him,  noted  this  fact. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said  harshly.  "  If  the  girl's  innocent, 
so  much  the  better.  We'll  do  nothing  till  Skein's  well,  eh? 
Are  you  chaps  all  agreeable?  " 

"  Guess  so,"  they  chorussed. 


THE   TOUCH   OF   FIRE  113 

The  Englishman  nodded. 

"  Very  well,  then,"  Dan  Cooper  said.  "  You'll  have  to 
come  along  with  us  until  the  matter's  settled  up,  my  girl. 
Do  you  hear?  " 

He  stretched  out  his  hand,  but  again  stayed  it  suddenly. 
The  Englishman's  revolver  was  flashing  once  more  in  the 
sunlight,  and  the  sound  of  his  voice  rang  out  like  a  pistol- 
shot. 

"  Hands  off,  Dan  Cooper!  The  girl's  mine,  and  you  don't 
take  her  away.  Do  you  hear?  I'll  shoot  the  first  man  who 
lays  his  hand  upon  her." 

Dan  Cooper  flashed  a  savage  look  across  at  the  speaker. 
He  did  his  best  to  smother  his  rage,  but  his  voice  shook 
with  anger. 

"  That  won't  do,"  he  said.  "  We've  got  to  watch  the 
girl,  and  we're  not  going  to  leave  her  outside  the  borders  of 
the  settlement  where  she  can  bolt  any  moment  she  chooses. 
That  isn't  good  enough  for  us.  She'll  have  to  come  along 
with  us,  eh,  lads?  " 

"  She  shall  not  stir  a  yard  with  you,"  was  the  steadfast 
answer.  "  Now  listen.  She  shall  live  in  my  shanty,  and 
I  will  go  with  my  pard,  Pete.  You  can  have  a  sentry  up 
there  if  you  like,  and  so  long  as  you  do  not  molest  her,  I 
give  my  word  as  an  Englishman,  not  to  help  her  to  escape. 
I  can't  say  fairer.    What  do  you  think,  mates?  " 

"  That's  all  right.    Guess  that's  good  enough." 

Dan  Cooper  bit  his  lip,  but  he  disputed  no  more.  He 
turned  away,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

"  Guess  we'll  send  some  one  up  to  see  that  you  don't  for- 
get, and  feel  like  trying  the  western  air,"  he  remarked  with 
a  sneer.  "  Come,  mates,  one  of  us  has  got  to  stay  and  see 
whether  Jim  comes  to  again  before  he  dies,  and  afterwards 
watch  yonder  shanty.    Guess  we'd  better  draw  lots." 

Bryan  passed  his  arm  around  the  girl's  waist,  and  drew 
her  away. 


114     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

"  You're  about  done  up,  Myra,"  he  said  kindly.  "  Come 
along,  we'll  leave  them  to  it  now.    I  wouldn't  worry." 

She  brushed  the  tears  away,  and  checked  a  little  hyster- 
ical sob  which  had  almost  broken  from  her  lips. 

"  I  won't,  Bryan,"  she  said.  "  After  all,  there's  some 
good  come  of  it.  We've  got  the  papers,  Bryan,"  she  added 
timidly.  "  If  they're  very  —  very  valuable,  you'll  care  for 
me  —  just  a  little  —  won't  you?  " 

He  took  her  hand  awkwardly. 

"  Of  course  I  will,"  he  said.  "  Let's  go  somewhere  in  a 
cool  place  and  read  them.  We'll  go  and  get  some  break- 
fast first,  though.    Keep  in  the  shade  as  much  as  you  can." 

They  crossed  the  gorge  and  entered  the  shanty.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  cleft  a  man  stood  out  in  the  fierce  sunshine 
watching  them.  Dan  Cooper  was  never  handsome  to  look 
at,  and  just  now  his  features  were  distorted  by  a  particularly 
disagreeable  scowl. 

"D n  that  Britisher   and   his   cool   tongue!"  he 

muttered.  "  I'll  be  even  with  him  if  I  have  to  taste  lead 
for  it." 

He  raised  his  fist  and  shook  it  over  at  the  shanty.  Then 
he  turned  and  disappeared  down  the  path  which  led  into 
the  valley. 


CHAPTER   XV 

A     ROUGH     WOOING 

The  hush  of  midnight  had  fallen  upon  the  valley  of  the 
Blue  River.  Dan  Cooper  had  closed  his  store,  and  for  lack 
of  other  shelter,  even  the  wildest  of  the  little  colony  had 
shut  themselves  up  in  their  own  huts.  All  sound  of  voices 
or  human  movement  had  died  away.  There  was  only  the 
deep,  murmurous  flow  of  the  river,  and  the  soft  splashing 
of  the  tiny  streamlets  which  leaped  from  the  ravine  on  to 
its  broad  dark  bosom,  to  break  an  utter  and  intense  stillness. 

A  soft  white  mist  had  stolen  upwards  from  the  over- 
heated earth,  and  hung  between  sky  and  land,  a  dim, 
ghostly  veil  through  which  the  moonlight  shone  faintly,  and 
with  a  wan,  imperfect  light.  There  was  no  breeze,  scarcely 
a'breath  of  air.  The  pine-trees,  perfectly  rigid  and  motion- 
less, stood  out  like  carved  and  embossed  sculpture  upon  a 
deep  blue  background.  It  was  a  typical  Southern  night, 
save  perhaps  in  a  curious  absence  of  all  animal  life  or  move- 
ment. The  scene  was  almost  like  a  painted  picture  upon  a 
huge  canvas.    It  lacked  but  one  thing  —  life. 

Stay!  Was  all  human  life,  after  all,  lacking?  Out  of 
the  deep  shadow  of  the  woods  which  fringed  the  precipitous 
path  from  the  valley,  a  dark  figure  swiftly  but  cautiously 
stepped,  and  paused  for  a  moment.  He  lifted  his  face  to 
the  two  cottages  which  crowned  the  hill  high  above  him. 

115 


116  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

The  nearest,  Pete  Morrison's,  was  unlit  and  gloomy;  in  the 
further  one  a  dim  light  was  still  burning.  It  was  towards 
this  one  he  looked  the  longest. 

"What  a  cursed  still  night!"     he  muttered  between 

his  teeth.     "  If  she  screams,  they'll  hear  her.     D n 

it!" 

He  stood  still,  glancing  from  one  shanty  to  another  as 
though  measuring  the  distance  with  his  eye.  Then  he 
commenced  cautiously  to  scramble  up  on  to  the  miniature 
terrace  of  green  turf  above.  Once  or  twice  a  loose  stone 
yielded  beneath  his  feet,  and  rolled  down  the  ravine,  finding, 
however,  a  noiseless  bed  in  the  thick  bushes  which  jutted 
out  from  the  sides.  Each  time  he  waited,  holding  his 
breath,  and  listening  for  the  sound  which  never  came.  It 
took  him  quite  ten  minutes  before  he  reached  the  top,  and 
hoisted  himself  on  to  the  smooth  green  turf. 

He  landed  about  midway  between  the  two  shanties. 
First  he  glanced  cautiously  over  his  right  shoulder  towards 
Pete  Morrison's.  It  was  perfectly  dark,  there  was  no  sign 
of  life  anywhere  about  it.  Then  he  stole  softly  along  to- 
wards the  other  hut,  keeping  his  hand  on  the  butt-end  of 
his  revolver  which  stuck  out  from  his  belt,  and  with  all  the 
air  of  a  man  bound  upon  sonic  desperate  enterprise. 

Close  to  the  threshold  he  paused.  There  was  a  dark 
object  stretched  under  an  alder-bush  but  a  few  yards  away. 
It  was  the  man  who  had  been  chosen  to  act  as  sentinel  to 
the  prisoner  —  fast  asleep. 

Cooper  dropped  on  one  knee,  and  bent  close  over  him. 

"  Tom,"  he  whispered  hoarsely.    "  Wake  up." 

Tom  sat  up  with  a  start.  He  would  have  uttered  a  cry, 
but  that  he  was  quite  unable  to  move  his  lips.  Dan 
Cooper's  rough,  strong  hand  was  covering  his  mouth. 

"  Don't  make  a  row,"  he  said.  "  It's  only  me  —  Dan 
Cooper.    Haven't  you  got  eyes  in  your  head?  " 


A   ROUGH   WOOING  117 

"  What  d'ye  want,"  the  man  grumbled,  "  waking  a  chap 
out  of  his  sleep  like  that?    What's  wrong,  eh?  " 

"  There's  nothing  wrong,"  Cooper  answered.  "  Only  the 
chaps  were  talking,  and  they  allowed  that  it  was  rather 
rough  for  you  to  pass  the  whole  night  up  here.  Jim  Coates, 
he  thought  we  ought  to  take  it  in  turns,  three  hours  each. 
Anyway,  I  offered  to  come  up  and  relieve  you  about  one 
o'clock,  and  here  I  am.  You  can  scoot  now.  Sh!  Don't 
make  a  row!  " 

"  I'd  as  lief  have  stayed  here,"  the  man  muttered.  "  I 
should  have  slept  till  morning  if  you  hadn't  woke  me." 

"  Yes,  and  let  the  girl  escape,  if  she'd  a  mind  to!  "  Dan 
Cooper  answered,  frowning.  "  You  weren't  sent  here  to 
sleep.    Sheer  off." 

The  man  looked  at  him  and  grinned. 

"  That's  all  gammon,"  he  said.  "  I  reckon  this  is  a  put-up 
thing  o'  your  own,  Dan.  Want  the  gel,  eh?  Well,  you  try. 
She's  a-sitting  in  there  with  all  her  togs  on,  ready  to  squeal 
her  head  off  if  a  chap  speaks  to  her.  You  try.  I  guess 
you'll  soon  want  to  chuck  it,  anyway." 

He  staggered  off,  stretching  himself  and  yawning.  Dan 
watched  him  disappear  in  grim  silence.  Then  he  strode  to 
the  edge  of  the  ravine,  and  watched  there  with  folded  arms. 
Before  long,  the  man  whom  he  had  relieved  reached  the 
bottom  of  the  chasm,  and  without  a  backward  glance, 
plunged  into  the  winding  plantation  which  led  down  into 
the  valley.  Dan  turned  away  satisfied.  He  had  really 
gone.    If  only  that  cursed  Englishman  were  out  of  earshot ! 

He  looked  to  the  priming  of  his  revolver,  and  carefully 
placed  it  in  a  convenient  position  in  his  belt.  Then  he 
strode  softly  up  to  the  door  of  the  shanty,  and  pressed 
himself  flat  against  it.  There  was  a  crack  midway  down 
where  the  new  wood  had  warped.  He  put  his  eye  to  the 
opening  and  looked  in. 


118     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

The  man  whom  he  had  sent  away  had  evidently  spoken 
the  truth.  She  was  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  fully 
dressed,  and  with  only  her  hair  in  disorder.  Her  eyes  were 
downcast,  but  she  was  not  sleeping.  On  the  contrary,  her 
head  was  bent  a  little  forward  as  though  she  had  been  dis- 
turbed by  the  muffled  voices  outside,  and  was  listening. 

Dan  Cooper  watched  for  fully  five  minutes  without  making 
any  movement.  In  the  wan  light  his  face  seemed  to  grow 
paler,  and  his  red,  bloodshot  eyes  more  bright.  Never  once 
did  he  look  away  from  the  slim,  graceful  figure  of  the  girl 
who  sat  there  watching  and  fearful.  When  at  last  he 
stepped  noiselessly  back,  he  drew  a  quick  little  breath,  and 
set  his  teeth  close  together.  He  glanced  searchingly  at  the 
little  shanty  below.  There  was  no  sign  of  any  light  or 
movement  about  it.  It  stood  out  like  a  dark  spot  upon  the 
moonlit  platform  of  turf,  with  a  background  of  space 
bounded  only  by  the  far-away  shadowy  mountains.  Dan 
Cooper  smiled,  a  slow,  evil  smile.  If  the  Englishman  had 
been  a  man  he  would  have  been  on  guard  here  to-night.  So 
much  the  better,  however. 

He  moved  back  to  his  former  position,  and  raising  the 
rude  latch,  thrust  open  the  door.  There  were  no  bolts  or 
other  means  of  preventing  ingress,  but  a  wooden  bench  had 
been  propped  up  against  it,  which  fell  clattering  over  now 
upon  the  wooden  floor.  Dan  Cooper  calmly  closed  the  door 
behind  him,  and  kicked  the  bench  out  of  the  way.  Then 
he  bent  his  steady  gaze  upon  the  girl,  who  had  risen  to  her 
feet,  and  was  standing  facing  him,  the  colour  coming  and 
going  in  her  dusky  cheeks,  and  her  bosom  heaving  fast. 

"  How  dare  you  come  in  here?  "  she  cried.  "  What  do 
you  want?  " 

He  folded  his  arms  and  laughed  softly.  What  fools  these 
women  were!  The  girl  must  know  that  she  was  in  his 
power.    Why  could  she  not  make  up  her  mind  to  it,  instead 


A  ROUGH  WOOING  119 

of  glaring  at  him  like  a  wild  animal  of  the  woods?  Perhaps 
she  was  doing  it  for  effect.  Dan  Cooper  was  not  exactly  an 
artist,  but  he  knew  enough  to  appreciate  her  enhanced 
beauty  as  she  shrank  away  from  him,  her  lithe,  shapely 
body  all  quivering  with  emotion,  and  her  breath  coming 
and  going  in  quick  little  gasps,  like  a  hunted  creature  at 
bay.  He  looked  at  her  in  sullen,  brutish  admiration,  and 
his  eyes  burned. 

"  What?  I  want  to  talk  with  you,"  he  said  thickly. 
"  Sit  down,  gel.    I  shan't  hurt  you." 

From  the  first  she  had  recognized  him  as  the  spokesman 
of  her  accusers.  With  her  woman's  instinct,  too,  she  feared 
him  and  his  visit. 

"  I'd  as  lief  stand,"  she  answered.    "  Be  quick,  please." 

He  laughed  hoarsely. 

"  'Pears  to  me,  young  lady,  you're  taking  things  kinder 
easy.  The  chaps  down  yonder  are  about  fixed  agin  yer. 
They  allow  as  it  was  you  as  shot  Jim.  They've  most  made 
up  their  minds  about  that." 

"  It's  a  lie,"  she  cried.  "  That  little  hound,  Skein,  shot 
him.    Jim  told  me  so  himself." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  spat  upon  the  floor. 

"  May  be  so,"  he  answered.  "  You  see  there  warn'tno 
witnesses,  and  it  just  happens  as  how  the  chaps  has  got  it 
into  their  heads  as  you  done  it.  They're  dead  set  on  that  — 
mighty  dead  set  on  it.  There's  nine  on  us  'lected  to  see  this 
thing  through,  and  out  of  that  nine  I  reckon  I'm  the  only 
one  as  ain't  set  that  way." 

She  remained  silent.  He  moved  a  step  nearer  to  her,  and 
continued.  There  was  no  lamp  or  candle  in  the  shanty, 
but  the  moonlight  was  flooding  in  through  the  open  case- 
ment, and  fell  in  a  long,  level  line  across  the  floor.  To  her 
it  revealed  the  gross  bestiality  of  the  man,  with  his  fierce 
animal  nature  all  afire.    To  him  it  showed  a  woman  more 


120     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

beautiful  than  any  he  had  ever  seen  in  his  life,  more  deli- 
cately lovely  than  ever  in  the  faint  white  light. 

"  I  reckon  you're  in  about  as  snug  a  hole  as  ever  a  gel 
walked  into,"  he  continued.  "  First  of  all,  you  ain't  got  no 
right  here  at  all.  It's  agin  the  law,  and  if  there  warn't 
anything  else  to  answer  for,  I  reckon  we  should  be  packing 

you  and  that  d d  Englishman  off  to-morrow.    But  after 

breaking  our  rules  by  coming  here  at  all,  you  must  go  and 
make  a  further  mess  of  it  by  getting  mixed  up  with  this  'ere 
shooting  business.  It  don't  come  sorter  natural  to  line  up  a 
female,  but  it's  what  the  chaps  are  talking  of,  and  they 
mean  business." 

She  raised  her  head  proudly,  and  her  eyes  flashed  fire. 

"  Then  let  them  do  it,"  she  said.  "  Why  have  you  come 
here  now  to  tell  me  all  about  it,  and  try  to  scare  me?  " 

"  Because  I  want  to  help  you,  and  I  reckon  I'm  about  the 
only  one  as  can.  I'm  kinder  thinking,  too,  that  you  and  me 
ain't  altogether  strangers  either,"  he  continued,  looking  at 
her  fixedly.  "  Ain't  I  seen  you  at  Josh's  —  Jose's,  back  of 
Seventh  Avenue,  yer  know?  " 

She  held  out  both  her  hands  in  front  of  her  face  with  a 
gesture  of  horror. 

"  No!  no!  "  she  cried.  "  That  is  all  over.  For  pity's 
sake  don't  say  that  you  saw  me  there.  Don't  remind  me  of 
it.    It  is  like  a  bad  dream." 

He  spat  upon  the  floor  and  looked  at  her  curiously. 

"  You're  an  odd  sort,"  he  continued.  "  I  seen  you  there 
all  the  same;  you  ain't  exactly  the  cut  of  a  gel  as  a  man 
sees  and  forgets.  I  ain't  forgot  yer,  yer  see.  Yer  was  a  cut 
above  me  then,  for  I  was  dead  stone  broke,  and  hadn't  got  a 
dollar,  but  I  guess  we're  on  level  terms  now.  Anyway,  I'm 
reckoning  on  being  a  friend  to  you.  Here's  my  proposal.  I'll 
stop  the  chaps  doing  anything  to  yer  for  coming  here  agin 
rules,  and  I'll  get  yer  out  of  that  darned  shooting  business. 


A   ROUGH   WOOING  121 

If  they  feels  set  on  hanging,  we'll  hang  Skein.  I  reckon  he 
deserves  it  anyway." 

"  And  —  what  for?  "  she  gasped. 

"  Ay,  what  for?  "  he  repeated,  with  a  sudden  light  flash- 
ing across  his  coarse  face.  "  You'll  come  right  along  with 
me.  That's  what  I'll  do  it  for  —  yerself.  I  guess  I  don't 
far  off  run  these  diggin's,  and  as  soon  as  you're  inside  my 
store,  there  ain't  no  one  going  to  lay  a  finger  upon  yer.    As 

for  that  d d  Englishman  of  yours,  I'll  let  daylight  into 

him  if  he  so  much  as  whines.  If  he  takes  it  like  a  man  he 
can  stop  on,  and  I  shan't  interfere  with  him.  Now  then. 
Speak  up!  Are  you  ready  to  come  along?  I  guess  you'd 
better  be." 

He  took  a  quick  step  forward  and  stood  over  her,  so 
close  that  his  hot  breath  seemed  to  burn  her  cheek.  She 
sprang  backwards,  just  escaping  from  his  grasp,  and  stood 
rigid  against  the  wall,  her  face  white,  and  her  dark  eyes  afire. 

"J)on't  you  touch  me!  "  she  cried.  "  Don't  come  near 
me !   Oh,  how  dare  you,  how  dare  you !  " 

Dan  Cooper  thrust  his  great  hands  loosely  through  his 
belt,  and  laughed  out  loud. 

"  Ha!  ha!  ha!  Myra,  my  gel,  you've  just  got  to  climb 
down  from  that  style  of  talking.  How  dare  I?  Come,  I 
like  that.  You've  been  living  with  one  man,  ain't  yer?  — 
picked  him  up  at  Jose's,  I'll  be  bound.  What's  the  dif- 
ference between  living  wi'  him  and  coming  to  live  along  wi' 
me?  I'll  lay  odds  I  can  show  a  hundred  dollars  for  every 
one  he's  got,  and  when  this  blooming  claim's  worked  up 
we'll  get  back  to  'Frisco  and  have  a  high  old  time.  I'm 
making  a  pile,  my  gel,  making  it  fast,  and  we'll  spend  it 
together  by-and-by.  I  shan't  chuck  you  over,  don't  you 
fear.    I'll  make  a  lady  of  you.    Come,  no  darned  nonsense !  " 

He  put  his  arm  round  her  waist  and  tried  to  draw  her 
towards  him.    She  could  retreat  no  further,  but  she  shook 


122  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

him  off,  and  with  her  back  against  the  wall  she  struck  him 
across  the  face  and  spat  at  him.  Her  cheeks  were  perfectly 
colourless  save  for  one  vivid  spot  of  scarlet  on  either  side, 
but  her  eyes  were  blazing. 

"  You  beast!  "  she  cried.  "  Let  me  go.  Do  you  think 
that  I  would  not  sooner  die  than  go  with  you?  Let  me 
alone,  or  I  shall  kill  you!    Bryan,  help!  help!  " 

Her  cry  rang  out  through  the  open  door  and  across  the 
deep  gorge,  stirring  strange  echoes  in  the  pine-woods 
opposite.  Dan  Cooper  clapped  his  great,  coarse  hand  over 
her  mouth,  and  swore  a  great  and  venomous  oath. 

"  You  wild  cat!  "  he  muttered.  "  You  won't  listen  to 
reason,  eh?  I  guess  I'll  make  you.  I'm  going  to  take  you 
with  me  when  I  leave  this  place,  whether  you  like  it  or  not. 
Leave  loose,  you  little  spitfire!    Curse  you,  leave  loose!  " 

She  had  wrenched  herself  away,  leaving  a  portion  of  her 
dress  in  his  hand,  and  sprang  towards  the  door,  wild  and 
disordered,  yet  with  a  certain  fierce,  grand  dignity  which 
was  like  fuel  to  the  fire  of  Dan  Cooper's  admiration.  He 
barred  the  way  with  his  great  body,  but  he  did  not  offer  to 
touch  her  again  for  the  moment. 

"  You  little  fool!  "  he  exclaimed,  with  a  certain  coarse 
good-humour.  "  You've  got  to  come  with  me  or  be  hung. 
I  shan't  keep  you  for  ever.  Guess  I'll  soon  be  tired  of  you, 
and  you  can  go  back  to  your  Britisher  then,  if  you  want. 
What  the  h — 11  are  you  making  such  a  fuss  about  it  for? 
One  man's  as  good  as  another,  I  guess.  You  didn't  go  to 
Jose's  for  nothing,  I  suppose!  "    he  sneered. 

She  crouched  down  before  him.  The  sense  of  her  utter 
physical  impotence  in  the  face  of  his  burly  strength  filled 
her  with  a  great  shivering  fear.  Her  fiery  indignation  was 
suddenly  changed  into  a  note  of  passionate  entreaty. 

"  Oh,  you  do  not  understand,"  she  cried.  "  There  is  no 
sin  in  my  living  with  him,  for  I  love  him;  but  you  —  don't 


A   ROUGH   WOOING  123 

let  me  think  of  it.  Spare  me!  For  God's  sake,  spare  me! 
I  would  sooner  die  here  on  the  floor  than  go  with  you.  If 
you  force  me  to,  I  shall  kill  myself.  I  mean  it.  I  shall  kill 
myself  with  the  first  weapon  I  can  find,  and  it  will  be  you 
who  will  have  driven  me  to  it.  Let  them  hang  me  if  they 
want  to.  I'll  submit.  I'll  stay  here  quietly.  I  won't  try 
to  escape.  Only  don't  touch  me !  For  the  love  of  God  don't 
touch  me!" 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  smile,  curious  and  evil,  stealing 
across  his  face.  The  passionate  entreaty  died  out  of  her 
tone  like  a  wail.  She  felt  that  it  was  useless.  There  was 
something  in  his  face  which  chilled  her  to  the  very  soul. 
She  looked  away  from  him,  out  of  the  empty  casement, 
out  upon  that  little  framed  picture  of  the  night  starred 
with  golden  fireflies  upon  a  soft  background  of  darkness. 
The  pine-stumps  stood  straight  and  stark  against  the  deep 
blue  sky.  There  was  no  movement  anywhere.  Not  even 
a  blade  of  grass  stirred,  and  the  heavy  pink  and  white 
blossoms  of  the  flowering  shrubs  drooped  their  heads  with- 
out a  rustle.  She  looked  out  upon  it  with  a  sort  of  rapt 
wistfulness,  with  something  of  the  infinite  pathos  with 
which  a  condemned  prisoner  looks  for  the  last  time  upon 
the  earth  he  leaves. 

Dan  Cooper  set  his  teeth  tight,  and  stooping  suddenly 
down,  pinioned  her  from  behind.  She  was  powerless  for  the 
moment,  and  she  knew  it.    She  did  not  attempt  to  move. 

"  Quit  fooling,"  he  said,  looking  close  into  her  eyes,  and 
speaking  with  a  tense  savageness  which  made  his  voice 
.sound  like  a  hiss.  "  You  can  kill  yourself  when  I've  done 
with  you,  if  you  like.    But  to-night " 

He  broke  off  short  in  his  speech.  Myra  leaned  forward, 
holding  her  breath.  Her  whole  being  seemed  arrested  in 
that  one  effort  of  listening.  He  too  had  turned  towards  the 
door,  with  a  face  as  dark  as  the  night  itself.    There  had 


124     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

been  some  slight  sound  outside.     It  might  have  been  an 

animal  stealing  out  of  the  woods,  or 

The  door  was  quietly  thrown  open.  The  Englishman  s 
huge  form  filled  the  space.  A  second  shadow  fell  across 
the  floor.  It  was  Pete  Morrison  leaning  through  the  win- 
dow-frame. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

EASTWARDS 

For  a  moment  or  two  it  was  a  curious  and  a  silent 
tableau ;  Dan  Cooper  glanced  from  one  to  the  other  of  the 
new-comers  like  a  wild  trapped  animal.  Then  his  hand  stole 
down  towards  his  belt. 

'•'Throw  'em  up!" 

The  voice  was  soft  and  persuasive.  It  came  from  Pete 
Morrison,  and  it  was  accompanied  by  the  dull  flash  of  steel 
suddenly  glancing  out  into  the  moonlight.  Dan  Cooper 
cowered  back,  and  then  sprang  towards  the  door.  He 
looked  into  the  dark  barrel  of  the  Englishman's  revol- 
ver. 

"Curse  you  both!"  he  cried  hoarsely,  raising  his  un- 
willing hands.    "  Let  me  go." 

Bryan  stood  away  from  the  doorway.  "  You  may  come 
out!  "  he  said  shortly. 

Dan  Cooper  bent  his  head,  and  stepped  out  into  the 
moonlight.  The  two  men  still  covered  him  with  their 
revolvers. 

"  Take  off  your  belt!  "    the  Englishman  ordered. 

"I'll  bed— dif  I  do!" 

"  Take  off  your  belt!  "    Bryan  repeated. 

He  opened  his  mouth  to  refuse  with  an  oath,  but  some- 
thing in  the  Englishman's  face  checked  the  words  upon  his 

125 


126     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

lips.  •  Silently  he  unbuckled  it,  and  it  slipped  on  to  the 
ground.  Bryan  walked  over  to  his  partner  and  handed  him 
his  revolver.    Then  he  turned  and  faced  his  antagonist. 

"  Dan  Cooper,"  he  said  quietly,  but  with  a  curious  light 
in  his  eyes,  "  you're  a  blackguard,  and  I'm  going  to  give 
you  a  good  English  thrashing!    Come  on!  " 

He  threw  off  his  hat  and  coat,  and  rolled  up  the  sleeves 
of  his  red  shirt.  His  opponent  followed  his  example  after 
one  quick,  stealthy  glance  towards  his  belt,  which,  however, 
Pete  had  calmly  appropriated.  They  stood  face  to  face  on 
the  little  plateau  of  turf  in  the  bright  moonlight;  the 
Englishman  calm  and  stolid,  Dan  Cooper  pale  and  furious 
with  anger.    Then  they  fought. 

It  was  all  over  in  ten  minutes.  Dan  Cooper  lay  on  his 
side  groaning  heavily,  and  making  no  effort  to  rise.  Bryan, 
after  waiting  for  a  moment,  put  on  his  coat,  and  walked  on 
one  side  with  his  partner. 

"  There'll  be  the  old  Harry  to  pay  in  the  morning,  when 
this  brute  gets  down  yonder!"  he  remarked,  jerking  his 
head  in  the  direction  of  the  valley. 

Pete  Morrison  withdrew  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and 
spat.  He  had  watched  the  fight  with  all  the  calm  indif- 
ference of  a  casual  spectator,  having  had  no  fear  whatever 
as  to  the  result. 

"  You  must  git,  and  sharp !  "  he  said.  "  I've  been  down 
amongst  the  chaps.  Guess  they'll  follow  Dan  like  a  flock 
of  sheep.  He  runs  the  liquor,  you  see!  You  and  the  gel 
have  got  to  be  t'other  side  of  yon  ridge  before  morning." 

He  pointed  with  his  pipe  towards  the  plain.  The  English- 
man knit  his  brows. 

"  We  can't  get  away  before  morning,"  he  said.  "  I've 
got  no  supplies  here  —  no  mule !  Just  as  we're  in  luck, 
too!" 


EASTWARDS  127 

"  Ye're  wrong  for  once,  pard!  "  Pete  answered.  "  See 
yonder." 

He  drew  him  on  one  side.  Behind  a  huge  shrub  two 
mules  were  tethered  —  one  with  a  bundle  strapped  on  to 
its  back. 

"  I  fixed  it  all  up  this  afternoon!  "  Pete  continued,  in 
answer  to  Bryan's  questioning  glance.  "  It  warn't  difficult 
to  size  things  up  then !  There's  grub  enough  there  to  stand 
you  out,  if  you've  anything  like  luck!  " 

Bryan  took  his  partner  by  the  hand. 

"  You're  a  good  fellow,  Pete,"  he  said  heartily.  "  I  sup- 
pose I  must  go,  for  the  girl's  sake,  but  it's  rough!  We've 
begun  to  pick  gold  up  like  dirt!  " 

"You'll  lose  nothing!  Not  a  cent!"  Pete  answered. 
"  I'll  take  help  on  to-morrow,  and  you  shall  have  your  share, 
honest  and  straight.    Take  the  gel  and  be  off !    See  yonder ! " 

He  pointed  to  the  far  east.  A  faint  white  line  was  part- 
ing the  clouds,  forerunner  of  the  dawn.  Bryan  hesitated 
no  longer.  He  hurried  into  the  shanty,  where  Myra  was 
sitting  with  her  face  buried  in  her  hands. 

"Get  your  things  together  quickly,  Myra!"  he  said. 
"We're  off,  you  and  I!" 

The  colour  leaped  into  her  cheeks,  and  her  eyes  sparkled. 
She  flew  around,  collecting  her  few  belongings. 

"  I  feel  real  mean,"  she  said.  "  If  it  wasn't  for  me,  you 
could  have  stayed  on  and  made  your  fortune!  " 

"  I'm  sick  of  it!  "  he  answered.  "  I'm  ready  to  go,  any- 
way !  Besides,  we've  got  the  papers !  I  want  to  take  them 
back  to  England.  I'm  homesick!  Here,  give  me  the 
bundle!" 

His  own  preparations  were  swiftly  made.  In  a  few 
minutes  they  were  out  and  ready  to  start.  He  lifted  Myra 
on  to  one  of  the  mules,  and  took  the  leading  rein  of  the 
other.    Then  he  turned  and  held  out  his  hand  to  his  partner. 


128  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

"  Pete,  you  and  I  have  been  good  pards!  Shake,  old 
chap!" 

They  grasped  hands.  Pete's  bony  face  was  twitching. 
He  held  out  a  pencil  and  a  piece  of  paper. 

"  I  want  your  fixings  in  England!  "  he  said.  "  I  shall 
send  you  an  account  of  how  your  share  goes!  You'll  never 
have  to  work  again,  I  reckon!  " 

Bryan  thought  for  a  moment,  and  then  scribbled  an  ad- 
dress.   One  more  handshake  and  they  were  off. 

Slowly  they  wound  their  way  down  into  the  valley. 
Before  them,  the  dawn  was  lightening  the  sky,  and  as  they 
travelled  on  towards  the  plain,  the  sun  burst  through  the 
rosy  bank  of  clouds,  and  shone  in  their  faces.  Far  away 
behind,  a  mere  speck  upon  the  hillside,  Pete  stood  up  just 
where  they  had  left  him,  and  seeing  them  in  the  broad  track 
of  the  sunlight,  he  waved  his  hand  in  farewell.  And  only  a 
few  yards  away,  Dan  Cooper  sat  up  on  the  turf,  and  turning 
an  evil  face  towards  them,  shook  his  fist  in  the  air,  and  swore 
a  deep,  profane  oath.  So  they  left  the  Valley  of  the  Blue 
River,  and  entered  upon  the  desert. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE     NIGHT    CRY 

It  was  the  afternoon  of  the  fifth  day,  and  they  were  al- 
most in  the  middle  of  the  great  plain  which  lay  between  the 
Blue  River  diggings  and  the  capital  of  the  Western  world. 
Already  there  were  gathering  symptoms  of  the  swift  twilight 
soon  to  settle  down  upon  them.  Bryan  patted  the  tired 
mule  which  he  was  leading  —  there  was  but  one  now  —  and 
spoke  to  it  encouragingly. 

"  Just  a  bit  further,  Pete !  Good  old  man !  Stiff,  Myra?  " 
he  added,  looking  up  at  her. 

"  Guess  I'll  walk  a  bit!"  she  answered,  slipping  off. 
"  Pete's  got  load  enough  without  me.  How  much  further 
are  we  going?  " 

The  Englishman  did  not  answer  for  a  moment.  He 
stepped  on  to  a  hillock,  and  shading  his  eyes  from  the  fierce 
glare  of  the  setting  sun,  he  gazed  long  and  searchingly  down 
the  track  by  which  they  had  come.  Watching  him  closely, 
Myra  was  aware  of  a  certain  harassed  anxiety  in  his  jaded 
face.  It  was  the  return  of  an  expression  which  she  had  once 
or  twice  surprised  there  during  the  long  day's  travel.  She 
stepped  up  to  him  and  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  Why  are  you  looking  behind,  Bryan?  "  she  asked. 
"  I  wish  you'd  tell  me.  Is  there  anything  fresh  to  fear? 
You've  been  sorter  silent  all  day!  " 

129 


130  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT  SNARE 

He  hesitated.  "  It's  nothing!  "  he  answered.  "  Maybe 
I  didn't  sleep  much  last  night  —  don't  think  I  did,  any- 
way —  and  I  felt  tired  this  morning.  We'll  push  on  as  far 
as  yonder  ridge.  I  don't  seem  to  like  camping  in  the  midst 
of  all  these  shrubs  and  things.  Too  much  cover!  Gee  up, 
Pete!" 

They  walked  on  side  by  side  —  the  man  abstracted,  but 
whistling  softly,  and  feigning  indifference;  the  girl  watch- 
ful.   Presently  she  touched  his  arm. 

"  Bryan!" 

"  Yes?  " 

"  It's  mean  of  you  to  treat  me  as  though  I  were  some 
silly  chit  of  a  city  girl  —  real  mean!  " 

"  Why,  what's  amiss,  Myra?  " 

"  You  know  quite  well!  You've  been  keeping  something 
from  me  all  day.  Why  have  you  been  climbing  every  little 
hill  we've  passed  on  pretence  of  looking  ahead,  and  then 
looked  behind  all  the  time?  Why  won't  you  camp  here 
amongst  the  brush  like  we  have  other  nights?  Tell  me !  Is 
—  is  any  one  following  us?  " 

He  looked  down  at  her  for  a  moment,  and  then 
nodded. 

"  I'm  afraid  so,  Myra!  I  don't  quite  understand  it,  but 
I'm  afraid  there's  no  doubt  —  that  some  one  is  on  our 
track!" 

She  took  off  her  hat,  and  the  evening  breeze  which  was 
just  beginning  to  steal  across  the  plain  swept  through  her 
coils  of  dark,  loose  hair,  and  cooled  her  heated  face.  Then 
she  took  hold  of  his  arm. 

"  Well,  go  on!  Tell  me!  "  she  said  brightly.  "  I'm  not 
skeered!   Tell  me  everything!  " 

"There  isn't  much  to  tell!"  he  said  grimly.  "  You 
know  Janette  was  gone  when  we  woke  this  morning!  " 

"  Yes!    She'd  broken  away,  hadn't  she?  " 


THE   NIGHT   CRY  131 

He  drew  a  piece  of  rope  from  his  pocket,  and  showed  it 
to  her.    She  took  it  in  her  fingers,  and  examined  it. 

"  Why,  it's  cut!  "    she  exclaimed. 

"  That's  so!"  he  admitted.  "It  was  cut  during  the 
night!" 

The  colour  rushed  from  her  cheeks,  but  she  recovered 
herself  almost  immediately.  It  was  for  her  sake  that  he 
was  here  —  that  they  stood  in  this  danger.  She  would 
sooner  die  than  add  to  his  troubles  by  showing  her  fear. 

"  Some  one  must  have  been  quite  close  to  us  during 
the  night!"  she  said,  unconsciously  dropping  her  voice. 
"  Makes  one  feel  kinder  shivery,  don't  it?  " 

They  were  crossing  a  slight  eminence,  and  as  though 
with  one  accord,  they  both  turned  round  and  looked  behind. 
So  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  there  was  no  moving  object. 
They  were  out  of  sight  of  the  mountains,  and  there  was  no 
longer  any  background  to  the  dim  blue  horizon  where 
plain  and  sky  seemed  to  melt  into  one  another.  But  dotted 
about  all  over  the  rough  broken  surface  of  the  country  were 
clumps  of  alder  shrubs  and  straggling  bushes.  It  was  to- 
wards these  that  the  Englishman  looked  long  and  ear- 
nestly. 

"  Yes,  some  one  must  have  been  quite  close  to  us,"  he 
said  slowly;  "  some  one  who  didn't  mean  us  any  particular 
good,  either.  You're  real  plucky  girl,  Myra,  and  you  may 
as  well  know  now  as  to-morrow  or  the  next  day.  Whoever 
it  was,  they  helped  themselves  to  our  stores  pretty  freely. 
Quite  half  our  things  are  gone  —  and  we  hadn't  much  to 
spare.  If  my  waking  up  hadn't  disturbed  them,  I  don't 
suppose  that  we  should  have  had  a  thing  left!  " 

She  glanced  over  towards  their  package.  Its  size  ap- 
peared undiminished.  His  eyes  followed  hers,  and  he 
divined  her  thoughts. 

"  I  stuffed  a  lot  of  grass  and  things  in  while  you  were 


132     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

asleep,"  he  said.  "  I  didn't  want  you  to  know!  I  thought 
you'd  be  scared!  " 

"  It  was  real  thoughtful  of  you  —  but  I'd  just  as  lief  have 
known!  "  she  answered.  "  I  wouldn't  have  eaten  so  much, 
either!" 

"  It  isn't  that!  "  he  answered  slowly.  "  We'll  perhaps 
be  able  to  rub  on  for  food,  but  —  they  haven't  left  us  much 
water!  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  and  shuddered.  He  kept  his  face 
turned  away  from  her. 

"  Is  there  —  any  at  all?  "    she  whispered. 

"  A  little  —  about  one  bowlful ! "  he  answered.  "  I  dare 
say  it'll  last  us.  We  shall  be  out  of  this  infernal  sterile 
region  presently.  There  are  the  Koomer  hills  to  cross,  you 
know  —  it's  been  a  dry  season,  but  there's  almost  certain 
to  be  water  there.  Then  we  shall  soon  join  the  track  that 
leads  to  Christopher's  Creek,  and  we  may  fall  in  with  some 
diggers.  We'll  camp  here,  Myra!  It's  well  on  the 
open!" 

They  tethered  the  mule,  and,  rather  reluctantly,  he 
handed  her  the  package.  She  opened  it  with  sinking  heart. 
Quite  three-quarters  of  its  contents  were  gone.  For  a 
moment,  her  eyes  were  dim.  Then  she  brushed  the  tears 
away,  and  forced  a  little  laugh. 

"  I  guess  it'll  be  a  mean  supper  to-night,  old  boy!  "  she 
said  lightly.    "  No  tea,  anyway!  " 

He  looked  round,  relieved  at  her  tone.  "  I'm  going  to 
make  a  great  fire,  all  the  same,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  think  we 
shall  have  any  prowlers  to-night." 

He  built  up  some  logs  of  wood  which  he  had  been  collect- 
ing, and  applied  a  match.  They  flared  up  almost  at  once. 
Then  he  loosened  his  belt,  and  looked  to  his  revolver  with 
more  care  than  usual. 

"  How  about  the  cartridges?  "    she  asked. 


THE   NIGHT   CRY  133 

"  Gone!  "  he  answered  shortly.  "  I  have  four  charges 
in  my  revolver,  and  I  don't  think  there  are  four  of  them 
after  us,  or  they'd  have  closed  in  before  now.  Four  charges 
mean  four  men's  lives!    I  shan't  feel  like  missing!  " 

"  Who  do  you  think  it  is?  "  she  asked. 

"  Dan  Cooper,  most  likely,  and  perhaps  a  pal.  That 
little  hound  who  shot  Jim  may  be  in  it.  I  don't  understand 
why  they  didn't  do  for  me  last  night  instead  of  just  stealing 
our  things.  There's  one  thing  to  be  grateful  for,  though: 
they  didn't  find  the  baccy.  Pete  put  it  in  the  mustard  tin, 
and  they  chucked  it  down  without  opening  it!  " 

He  filled  his  pipe,  and,  leaning  forward,  lit  it  by  one  of  the 
dancing  flames.  Unseen  by  Myra,  he  had  slipped  half  his 
supper  back  again.    The  pipe  would  do  as  well ! 

They  sat  together  in  silence.  His  arm  was  around  her 
waist,  her  head  had  fallen  upon  his  shoulder.  Slowly  the 
soft  darkness  of  the  Californian  night  fell  around  them, 
pierced  only  by  those  lurid  tongues  of  crackling  flames 
which  leaped  upwards  from  the  fire  he  had  kindled.  One  by 
one  the  stars  crept  out  into  the  dark  blue  sky,  and  in  the 
distance  the  fireflies  danced  around  the  alder  bushes.  A 
great  hush  seemed  to  have  fallen  upon  the  earth. 

"  Kinder  lonesome,  isn't  it?  "  Myra  whispered,  her  hand 
stealing  into  his. 

He  nodded,  with  his  eyes  fixed  steadily  upon  the  nearest 
range  of  alder  bushes. 

"  Seems  so!  "    he  answered  laconically. 

She  shuddered  a  little  at  the  meaning  in  his  words. 

"  You  don't  see  anything,  do  you?  "  she  asked  under  her 
breath. 

He  shook  his  head.  "  No;  and  don't  expect  to!  "  he 
declared  reassuringly.  "  I  don't  think  that  they  will 
trouble  us  to-night,  Myra.  They'll  know  that  we  shall  be  on 
the  alert.    I'm  going  to  keep  up  a  blazing  fire,  and  if  any 


134     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

one  passes  that  line  of  shrubs  yonder,  they  are  within  the 
range  of  my  revolver;  and  I'm  in  just  about  the  humour  to 
shoot  straight!  "    he  answered  grimly. 

"  But  you're  not  going  to  sit  up  all  night?  "  she  said. 
"  Can't  I  watch  some  of  the  time?  " 

He  patted  her  little  hand  tenderly,  and  reached  out  for 
the  blanket. 

"  No ;  I'd  rather  sit  up  myself,"  he  answered.  "  Besides, 
you're  tired  and  I'm  not!  Directly  there's  a  tinge  of  light 
yonder,"  he  waved  his  hand  eastward,  "  I  shall  wake  you 
and  take  a  nap  for  an  hour.  Now,  good  night,  little  woman ! 
Sleep  well!" 

She  bent  forward,  holding  up  her  face  to  him,  and  he 
kissed  her  with  a  rough  sort  of  tenderness  which  seemed 
characteristic  of  the  man.  Her  dark  eyes  were  wonderfully 
soft  and  bright  in  the  glow  of  the  ruddy  flames. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Bryan,  real  sorry!  "  she  whispered.  "  It's 
all  through  me,  your  having  to  leave  the  diggings,  and  being 
in  danger  like  this.  I  guess  you're  sorry  I  came  after 
you!" 

He  did  not  care  to  ask  himself  whether  her  words  were 
true,  for  the  sad  wistfulness  of  her  tone  had  touched  his 
heart.  He  denied  it  instantly,  and  stooping  down  kissed  her 
again,  and  of  his  own  accord.  It  was  an  unusual  thing  for 
him  to  do. 

"  Don't  you  worry,  Myra,"  he  said  hopefully.  "  We  shall 
pull  through  this  all  right.  Go  to  sleep  now,  there's  a  dear 
little  woman!  " 

She  leaned  back  with  a  contented  sigh,  and  closed  her 
eyes;  with  awkward  care  he  threw  the  other  blanket  over 
her.  Then  he  relit  his  pipe,  which  had  gone  out  whilst  they 
had  been  talking,  with  a  piece  of  smouldering  wood,  and 
turned  his  face  towards  the  point  of  danger. 

Slowly  the  long  hours  of  night  dragged  themselves  away. 


THE   NIGHT   CRY  135 

Still  he  sat  like  a  carved  image,  only  moving  now  and  then 
to  replenish  the  fire ;    watching  and  listening. 

It  was  past  midnight.  There  had  been  five  hours  of  dark- 
ness, and  all  that  time  there  had  been  no  sound.  Suddenly 
the  deep,  intense  hush  of  the  night  which  brooded  over  the 
desert  was  broken  in  a  strange,  almost  grotesque  manner. 
From  the  long  straggling  cover  of  stunted  alder-trees  there 
had  rung  out  upon  the  breathless  night  a  peal  of  harsh, 
strident  laughter. 

The  Englishman  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  moved  a  step 
forward,  his  revolver  clenched  in  his  hand,  and  his  eyes 
striving  to  penetrate  the  gloom  beneath  those  thickly 
growing  boughs.  Myra,  too,  had  been  startled  from  her 
deep  sleep,  and  stood  by  his  side,  with  pale,  horror-stricken 
face. 

"  What  —  what  was  it?  "  she  whispered,  clinging  to  his 
left  arm. 

"I  don't  quite  know!"  he  answered  coolly.  "It 
sounded  like  a  man's  laugh.    Keep  still!  " 

Minutes  which  seemed  like  hours  passed  slowly  away. 
Then  suddenly  the  sound  was  repeated,  only  this  time  there 
was  a  more  human  note  in  the  laughter  —  for  such  it  cer- 
tainly was.  Bryan  raised  his  revolver,  and  pointed  it  to  the 
spot  whence  the  sound  had  come,  but  he  lowered  it  again 
almost  immediately.  The  cover  was  scarcely  within  range, 
and  he  had  but  four  shots. 

He  took  another  step  forward,  and  raised  his  voice. 

"  Is  that  you,  Dan  Cooper?  "  he  cried.  "  Come  out  and 
show  yourselves,  you  skulking  cowards!"  he  thundered 
into  the  darkness. 

There  was  no  answer  —  no  repetition  of  the  sound.  Again 
that  unbroken  silence  reigned  upon  the  earth.  They  piled 
up  the  logs,  and  the  red,  lurid  flames  cast  their  fantastic 
light  to  the  very  borders  of  the  alder  bushes.    But  in  the 


136  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

shadows  beyond  there  was  darkness  —  darkness  and  silence. 
Hour  after  hour,  they  watched  and  waited  in  vain,  even 
Myra  never  daring  to  think  of  sleep.  But  there  came  no 
further  sound.  No  human  being  appeared  within  the  broad 
circle  of  that  burning  light. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  PASSION  IN  THE  DESERT 

Once  more  it  was  evening.  Another  day  of  journeying 
across  the  dry,  arid  plain  under  a  burning  sun,  was  over. 
Once  more  the  night  was  before  them;  the  night  with  its 
vague  terrors  and  forced  inaction. 

They  made  their  little  preparations  with  scant  exchange 
of  words  —  there  was  so  little  to  be  said  that  did  not  savour 
of  despair.  When  the  time  came  for  setting  out  their  eve- 
ning meal,  Myra  spread  on  the  ground  before  them  the  slen- 
der remains  of  their  little  stock,  and  pointed  to  it  with  tears 
in  her  eyes. 

"  How  much  do  you  think  we  ought  to  take,  Bryan?  " 
she  asked  timidly.    "Iara  not  ver.y  hungry.' ' 

"  And  I  have  my  pipe  and  tobacco,  thank  God  ! "  he 
put  in  quickly.  "  Let's  see  —  there's  nearly  half  a  tin  of 
beef  left.  We'll  divide  that,  and  share  a  piece  of  hard  tack. 
That'll  leave  about  as  much  for  to-morrow!  " 

"  And  after  that?  "  she  asked  fearfully. 

"  We  must  trust  to  what  turns  up!  "  he  said,  with  a  dry 
little  laugh.  "  We  should  be  on  the  track  by  then,  of 
diggers  going  to  and  fro  from  Christopher's  Creek." 

"  You  know  that  we  have  no  water!  "    she  faltered. 

"  Yes,  I  know  it!  "  he  answered.  "  We  must  hope  to 
reach  the  hills  to-morrow!  " 

137 


138  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

They  ate  a  little,  but  their  mouths  were  parched  and  dry. 
The  long  day's  travel  in  the  burning  heat  without  water 
or  sufficient  nourishment  had  had  its  effect  upon  them. 
The  Englishman's  eyes  were  bloodshot,  and  underneath 
them  were  deep  black  lines.  There  was  a  wan  look  about 
his  face,  too,  as  though  of  great  physical  exhaustion.  Myra 
watched  him  with  an  aching  heart.  It  was  she  who  had 
brought  him  out  into  this  desert.  It  was  for  her  sake  and  in 
her  defence  he  had  incurred  the  bitter  hatred  of  these  men 
who,  without  doubt,  were  hunting  them  down.  She  had 
scarcely  a  thought  for  the  straits  in  which  she  herself  was. 
Hunger  and  thirst  and  fatigue  were  forgotten  in  the  great 
sickening  fear  lest  the  doom  which  seemed  to  be  slowly 
overshadowing  them  should  claim  him  for  its  victim.  He 
had  done  so  much  for  her  —  and  she  loved  him.  There  was 
a  lump  in  her  throat,  and  she  could  not  eat. 

When  his  back  was  turned,  she  slipped  the  greater  portion 
of  her  supper  into  her  pocket.  Then  she  lay  down  with  her 
head  upon  one  of  the  rolled-up  blankets,  and  watched  him 
pile  up  the  fire. 

The  place  where  they  were  camping  was  scarcely  so  open 
as  that  of  the  night  before.  There  was  more  scrub  about, 
and  closer  at  hand.  But  it  was  the  best  they  could  find. 
They  had  struggled  on  and  on  until  Myra  had  felt  her  feet 
give  way  beneath  her,  and  had  fallen,  half-fainting,  upon  a 
little  bank.  The  twilight  was  already  settling  down  upon 
them,  and  in  front,  the  country  seemed  even  more  broken 
up.  So  they  had  stayed  there,  and  side  by  side  they 
watched  the  stars  steal  into  the  deep  violet  sky,  and  the 
flames  of  their  pine-wood  fire  leap  up  into  the  darkness, 
casting  strange  shadows  upon  the  ground  and  across  the 
bushes.  Soon  she  fell  asleep  with  a  sort  of  effortless  ease, 
born  of  her  utter  exhaustion  of  mind  and  body.  And  he, 
who  dared  not  sleep,  sat  gaunt  and  hollow-eyed  by  her  side, 


THE   PASSION   IN   THE    DESERT  139 

his  revolver  across  his  knees,  watching  and  listening.  He 
had  no  count  of  time.  There  was  nothing  by  which  he  could 
measure  it,  save  by  his  own  sensations,  and  by  their  record 
the  hours  that  passed  before  midnight  alone,  were  in  them- 
selves longer  than  any  night  he  had  ever  known.  His  throat 
and  his  brain  were  alike  burning,  but  he  was  still  conscious 
of  two  strong  feverish  desires  —  one  for  water,  or  anything 
to  moisten  a  little  his  burning  thirst;  the  other,  the  deep 
desire  to  kill  or  take  some  terrible  vengeance  on  the  man 
who  had  come  like  a  thief  in  the  night,  and  first  robbed  and 
then  mocked  them. 

So  he  sat  there  with  strained  eyes,  watching  and  listening. 
All  day  long  he  had  mounted  every  little  eminence  which 
they  had  passed,  and  with  his  hand  shadowing  his  eyes  had 
swept  the  horizon  for  some  signs  of  their  pursuers.  He  had 
seen  nothing  of  them,  and  yet,  now  that  night  was  come, 
and  he  sat  there  a  lone  figure  on  the  vast  desert,  he  felt 
instinctively  that  they  were  at  hand.  Every  moment  he 
expected  to  hear  that  demoniacal  peal  of  mocking  laughter, 
or  some  other  and  possibly  more  threatening  token  of  their 
near  presence.  If  only  one  of  them  would  step  for  a  mo- 
ment out  of  their  cowardly  ambush  —  one  single  moment 
would  be  enough,  for  he  had  no  fear  of  missing  them.  There 
is  a  despair  which  only  nerves  the  hand  and  quickens  the 
eye !    It  was  so  with  him  then ! 

Minute  by  minute,  hour  by  hour,  the  night  passed  on  his 
way.  He  sat  with  his  eyes  idly  watching  the  flames  which 
leaped  up  from  his  feet.  To-night  they  seemed  to  be  show- 
ing him  little  glimpses  of  his  past  days,  of  those  wild,  un- 
settled days  of  his  later  boyhood  and  early  manhood. 
There  was  a  girl's  face  looking  up  at  him  from  the  smoulder- 
ing embers  —  a  fair,  proud  face  with  the  lips  curled  a  little 
in  a  fine  disdain,  and  the  eyes  mocking  him.  See,  there 
she  was,  holding  out  a  tiny  white  hand  to  him,  with  her 


140  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

skirts  gathered  daintily  in  the  other,  and  held  back  lest  they 
should  come  too  near  to  his  soiled  garments.  What  con- 
descension, and  what  queenly,  gracious  beauty!  How  her 
voice  had  thrilled  him  in  those  days  —  him,  the  vagabond 
of  the  place,  the  incorrigible,  the  ne'er-do-well!  He  had 
not  dared  to  think  of  her  lately  —  but  surely  there  was  no 
harm  now !  He  might  allow  himself  this  last  sweet  luxury ! 
Would  she 

It  had  come  at  last.  After  hours  of  waiting  and  of  deep, 
breathless  quiet,  the  silence  of  the  night  was  broken. 

There  was  the  flash  of  a  revolver,  and  a  loud  report  from 
behind  a  little  line  of  scrub  to  the  right  of  them  —  a  report 
followed  almost  instantly  by  the  hideous  death-cry  of  an 
animal  in  torture.  The  Englishman  leaped  to  his  feet, 
maddened  with  rage.  A  few  yards  away,  Peter,  their  faith- 
ful mule,  lay  gasping  out  his  last  breath.  There  was  no 
further  report.  The  death-cry  of  the  animal  was  followed 
by  a  silence  as  intense  and  unbroken  as  the  hours  which  had 
passed  before.  Bryan  could  contain  himself  no  longer.  He 
threw  all  prudence  to  the  winds,  and  breaking  from  Myra's 
arms,  he  sprang  across  the  open  space,  his  great  gaunt  figure 
clearly  defined  in  the  leaping  firelight. 

"  Come  out,  you  miserable  sneaks,  you  cowards!"  he 
shouted.  "  Dan  Cooper!  Do  you  hear,  Dan  Cooper! 
Stand  out  like  a  man,  I  say,  and  show  yourself!  " 

There  was  no  answer.  Reckless  with  passion,  he  fired 
twice  into  the  shrubs  from  whence  the  shot  had  come.  The 
reports  echoed  away  again  and  again;  then  there  was 
silence.  He  reached  the  shrubs  themselves.  There  was  no 
one  there.  Beyond  was  a  gloomy  wilderness.  To  go  a  step 
further  was  to  offer  himself  an  easy  mark  to  any  one  who 
might  be  lurking  beyond. 

Two  of  his  four  cartridges  were  spent,  wasted.  He  raised 
his  hands  to  the  skies  and  shouted  a  curse  which  leaped  up 


THE   PASSION   IN   THE   DESERT  141 

from  his  heart.    Then  he  turned  away  and  walked  back  to 
their  camping-place. 

Day  broke,  and  with  wan  white  faces  they  turned  their 
backs  upon  the  line  of  light  in  the  east.  There  was  little 
left  for  them  to  carry.  The  blankets  they  left  behind  —  it 
was  not  worth  while  bringing  them  —  and  the  remainder  of 
their  little  stock  of  provisions  went  easily  into  his  pocket. 
They  started  hand  in  hand,  but  they  kept  their  faces 
averted.  There  was  a  writing  even  on  his  strong  features 
which  was  like  the  writing  of  death. 

As  the  sun  grew  hotter,  they  lay  down  under  a  little  group 
of  stunted  trees.  Here  for  the  first  time  for  many  hours  he 
dozed,  and  she  watched,  sitting  by  his  side  with  his  head 
upon  her  lap.  Higher  and  higher  the  sun  rose  into  a  cloud- 
less sky,  and  the  heat  grew  more  fierce.  As  noontime 
approached,  she  felt  her  tongue  swell  in  her  mouth,  and 
several  times  her  senses  reeled.  She  laid  his  head  tenderly 
down,  stood  up,  and  tried  to  swallow  a  morsel  of  food.  It 
was  useless!  It  stuck  in  her  throat.  Then,  as  she  was 
sinking  down  again,  some  moving  object  far  behind  on  the 
way  by  which  they  had  come  attracted  her.  She  shaded 
her  eyes  with  her  hand,  and  gazed  steadily.  Yes,  they  were 
distinctly  in  sight  now :  two  men  riding  on  mules,  and  each 
leading  a  spare  one.  She  even  saw  the  water-bottles  on 
their  backs,  and  the  sight  forced  tears  into  her  eyes. 

She  looked  down  at  her  companion.  He  was  dozing 
feverishly,  tossing  about  and  muttering  to  himself. 

"  Now  is  the  time,"  she  said  softly;  "  it  may  revive  him. 
It  is  our  one  hope !  " 

She  drew  a  small  bottle  from  her  pocket.  It  contained 
her  last  allowance  of  water,  which,  unseen  by  him,  she  had 
poured  into  a  smaller  phial  and  kept.  She  drew  out  the 
cock,  and  holding  it  carefully,  stooped  down. 

"  Wake  up,  Bryan!  "  she  whispered. 


142  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

He  sat  up  dazed  and  stupefied.    She  held  out  the  phial. 

"  Drink!  "    she  said  quietly. 

He  snatched  it,  and  drank  three-quarters  of  its  contents 
at  a  gulp.  Then  his  reason  came  back  like  a  flash.  He 
withdrew  the  flask  from  his  mouth,  and  looked  at  her. 

"  You  have  let  me  drink  it!  "  he  said  hoarsely.  "  You 
kept It  was  yours,  and  I  have  drunk  it  nearly  all !  " 

a  You  wanted  it  more  than  I  did!  "  she  faltered. 

He  pressed  the  phial  into  her  hand.  She  moistened  her 
lips  with  a  few  drops  of  what  was  left.  The  sensation  was 
the  most  exquisite  she  had  ever  known.  Then  she  pointed 
away  across  the  plain. 

"  See,"  she  said,  "  there  they  are!  Dan  Cooper  and  the 
other  — Skein!" 

The  Englishman  crawled  to  his  feet  with  a  wild,  grim 
look  of  satisfaction.  He  looked  to  the  primings  of  his 
revolver. 

"  Let  them  come!  "  he  muttered.  "  Ay,  let  them  come! 
They  may  have  water!  Stoop  down,  Myra!  Lie  down  in 
the  shade!    Let  them  get  near !  " 

They  lay  flat  on  the  ground,  and  waited.  They  waited 
until  they  heard  the  sound  of  mules'  feet  and  men's  voices 
close  at  hand.  Then  Bryan  stood  up,  his  revolver  in  his 
hand.  Scarcely  twenty  paces  away,  were  Dan  Cooper  and 
Skein  riding  leisurely  along.  At  the  sight  of  the  gaunt, 
desperate  figure  rising  up  as  it  were  out  of  the  ground,  they 
stopped  short.  Then,  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  both 
men  leaped  from  their  mules,  and  crouched  behind  them. 

Bryan  lowered  his  revolver.  "  What  have  I  done  to  you 
men,"  he  cried,  "  that  you  should  hunt  me  to  death  like  a 
dog?  Give  me  some  water!  You  have  it  there  in  those 
bottles!    Give  me  some  water!   We  are  dying  of  thirst!  " 

Dan  Cooper  rose  slowly  up  from  his  ambush,  and  laughed. 
His  evil  face  still  showed  the  mark  of  the  Englishman's  fist. 


THE   PASSION   IN   THE    DESERT  143 

u  You  may  starve  and  rot  like  a  dog  for  all  the  help  I  give 
you!  "  he  cried.  "  What  do  you  think  I  have  followed  you 
for?  To  help  you?  By  God,  no!  I  am  here  to  watch  you 
die!" 

Bryan  stepped  forward,  and  raising  his  revolver  un- 
steadily, fired.  The  mule  that  was  between  them  staggered 
and  sank  down.  But  Dan  Cooper  rose  up  from  behind, 
unhurt,  with  a  wicked  smile  upon  his  lips,  and  unfaltering 
hand.  The  dying  sun  gleamed  upon  the  barrel  of  his 
revolver,  and  his  lips  remained  parted  in  that  devil's  smile. 
He  saw  that  Bryan  was  on  the  verge  of  fainting  —  he  had 
nothing  to  fear  from  him.  Already  he  was  swaying  like  a 
drunken  man,  and  making  vain  efforts  to  steady  his  re- 
volver. Dan  Cooper  took  a  leisurely  aim,  and  fired.  Too 
late  Myra  had  sprung  forward  with  a  cry  of  horror,  passion- 
ately striving  to  drag  him  away,  to  get  between  the  two 
men.  He  was  prone  upon  the  ground  with  his  sightless  eyes 
turned  to  the  deep  blue  sky,  and  the  dark,  thick  drops  of 
blood  oozing  slowly  out  from  his  chest.  She  threw  herself 
down  beside  him  in  a  wild  abandonment  of  grief. 

"  Bryan,  my  love,  speak  to  me!  Say  that  you  are  not 
dead!    Oh,  my  love!    my  love!  " 

There  was  no  answer  —  no  sign  of  any  understanding. 
A  ghastly  pallor  had  crept  into  his  face.  He  was  white  even 
to  the  cold  lips  which  she  was  frantically  kissing. 

Suddenly  she  turned  round  upon  her  knees.  Dan  Cooper 
was  calmly  standing  watching  her,  wTith  his  hands  stuck 
through  his  belt. 

"  Young  woman,  I  reckon  you'd  better  have  come  with 
me  at  first!  "  he  said.  "  I  was  bound  to  have  you.  I'd 
swore  it!  If  you're  ready  now,  we'll  move  on!  There's 
better  things  than  kissing  dead  men.    Come!  " 

"Sooner  down  into  hell!"  she  cried,  facing  him  with 
blazing  eyes.    "  You  beast!   You  vile  coward!  " 


144     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

He  laughed  softly.  "  We've  got  water  and  spirits,  and 
plenty  to  eat.  I  guess  you'll  find  us  better  company  than 
your  hulking  Britisher!  " 

"  I  will  starve  before  I  touch  your  food,"  she  cried 
fiercely.    "  If  you  come  near  me,  I  will  kill  you." 

He  laughed  out  loud.  "  Not  tamed  yet,  my  dainty 
beauty!  "  he  sneered.  "  We'll  give  you  a  little  longer,  eh? 
We're  both  powerful  anxious  for  your  company,  but  we'll 
wait  a  bit!  We  ain't  going  to  hurry  you !  We've  plenty  to 
drink,  if  you  should  happen  to  be  thirsty!  We'll  look  you 
up  presently!  " 

He  stooped  down  and  undid  the  packages  from  the  dead 
mule,  fastening  them  on  the  other.  Then  he  tramped  away, 
and  Skein  followed  him. 

Once  more,  and  for  the  last  time  in  such  fashion,  the 
dusky  night  shadows  stole  down  upon  the  two.  She  had 
collected  a  few  logs  and  made  a  small  fire.  By  its  light 
she  sat  with  her  hands  clasping  his,  and  her  great  dark  eyes, 
curiously  distended,  fixed  upon  the  darkness.  This  night 
it  was  she  who  watched,  and  he  who  slept;  only  his  sleep 
was  like  the  sleep  of  death. 

Night  came  down  upon  them  with  all  its  terrors,  but  she 
had  passed  fear.  Once  he  had  opened  his  eyes,  and  breathed 
out  her  name.  She  had  moistened  his  lips  with  the  last 
remains  out  of  the  tiny  phial,  and  now  there  was  nothing 
to  do  but  to  sit  and  wait,  and  watch. 

Her  time  arrived.  A  dark  figure  came  stealing  along 
towards  her,  keeping  in  the  shadows,  and  halting  every  now 
and  then.  She  rose  up  softly  with  a  curious  smile  upon  her 
lips,  and  her  hand  in  the  bosom  of  her  gown. 

"  Is  that  you,  Dan  Cooper?  "    she  cried  out  softly. 

He  halted  in  his  stealthy  approach,  and  tried  to  stand 
still.    He  did  not  seem  to  be  very  steady  upon  his  feet. 


"  The  last  shot  from  the  Englishman's  revolver  had  found  its  way 
into  his  heart." 


The  World's  Great  Snare] 


{Page  145 


THE   PASSION   IN   THE   DESERT  145 

"Ay!  Are  you  still  as  proud  as  ever,  eh?  Are  you  tamed 
yet,  my  beauty?  Are  you  thirsty,  eh?  How  many  kisses 
will  you  give  me  for  a  glass  of  water?  " 

11 1  am  dying  of  thirst !  "  she  moaned.  "  Bring  me  some 
water,  and  come  to  me!  " 

He  laughed  —  a  long,  hideous  laugh  which  seemed  to  find 
a  hundred  strange  echoes  as  it  rolled  away  across  the  plain. 

"Ha,  ha!    You  bid  me  come  to  you,  you  jade!"    he 

cried  exultingly.     "  I'm  a  better  man  than  your  d d 

Britisher,  after  all!  Ha!  ha!  I've  got  water  and  brandy 
too!  We'll  make  a  night  of  it  —  under  the  bushes  across 
yonder." 

He  reeled  into  sight,  and  came  across  to  her.  She  waited 
for  him  calmly. 

"  Let  me  hear  it  again!  "  he  cried.  "  Let  me  hear  you 
call  me!  Ha!  ha!  ha!  I've  been  drinking,  but  I'm  sober 
enough  to  kiss  you,  my  little  beauty!    Ha!  ha!  ha!  " 

"  Come  quickly,  Dan  Cooper!  "  she  cried.  "  I  am  wait- 
ing for  you!  " 

"  Waiting  for  me!   Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

He  stepped  into  the  broad  circle  of  light,  and  the  leaping 
flames  cast  a  red,  lurid  glow  upon  his  flushed  face  and  wildly 
bright  eyes.  He  was  almost  touching  her  now;  his  arms 
were  already  stretched  out  to  take  her  into  his  clumsy  em- 
brace. Still  she  stood  like  a  marble  figure.  Too  late,  he 
stopped  short,  sobered  by  that  strange  set  look  in  her  ashen 
face  —  too  late,  for  her  hand  had  stolen  out  from  the  bosom 
of  her  gown.  There  was  a  flash,  a  loud  report,  and  with  a 
curse  which  twisted  his  lips  and  left  them  apart  for  ever, 
Dan  Cooper  threw  up  his  arms,  and  rolled  over  like  a  log. 
The  last  shot  in  the  Englishman's  revolver  had  found  its 
way  into  his  heart. 

She  stood  perfectly  still.    The  tigress-like  gleam  had  not 


146  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

died  out  from  her  eyes  —  there  was  not  the  least  horror  at 
what  she  had  done.  To  her,  it  seemed  indeed  a  very  right- 
eous act.  Then  as  he  did  not  move,  she  crossed  over  to  his 
side,  and  took  the  water-bottle  and  brandy  from  his  belt. 
She  returned  with  them  to  the  Englishman,  and  her  face 
changed  in  a  moment.  She  bent  over  him  tenderly,  and 
moistened  his  lips  with  the  spirit,  and  even  poured  a  few 
drops  of  water  on  his  forehead.  Then  she  took  some  her- 
self, and  lay  down  beside  him. 

There  came  a  time,  just  as  the  first  streak  of  dawn 
lightened  the  eastern  sky,  and  the  pale  flame  of  her  fire  died 
out,  when  he  opened  his  eyes.    She  bent  close  over  him. 

"  My  love!  "  she  murmured.  "  We  are  alone!  We  shall 
die  together!    Kiss  me!" 

He  kissed  her  feebly,  and  closed  his  eyes  again.  He  was 
conscious,  but  he  had  no  strength  to  speak.  But  his  kiss 
had  satisfied  her.  She  was  quite  content.  To  die  like  this 
was  no  such  hard  thing  for  her.  Along  the  stormy  channels 
of  her  life,  this  was  the  one  man  who,  in  his  rough  way,  had 
been  kind  and  loyal  to  her.  So  she  loved  him  —  loved  him, 
as  her  woman's  instinct  had  told  her,  as  he  had  never  done 
her.  If  they  had  lived,  she  must  have  lost  him.  Some  one 
else  would  have  taken  him  away.  So  she  looked  death  in 
the  face  and  smiled !  By  his  side,  on  his  bosom,  it  seemed 
no  evil  thing! 

With  the  dawn  came  Skein.  He  came  like  a  jackal, 
stealing  softly  along  with  white  face  and  trembling  lips. 
Myra  rose  up  and  went  to  meet  him  with  dauntless 
front. 

"  Fetch  me  the  other  mule  and  the  stores!  "  she  com- 
manded, levelling  the  empty  revolver  at  him.  "  I  will 
come  with  you.    Show  me  the  way !  " 

He  obeyed  her,  speechless  with  fear.  He  had  seen  Dan 
Cooper,  white  and  dead,  with  his  life-blood  staining  the 


THE   PASSION   IN   THE   DESERT  147 

sandy  turf  on  which  he  lay.  He  was  a  coward,  and  he 
obeyed  her. 

He  brought  her  to  where  they  had  camped,  some  few 
hundred  yards  away,  without  a  word  passing  between 
them.  She  took  up  the  water-bottles  and  tins  of  food  upon 
her  shoulders,  and  she  pointed  westwards. 

"  Mount  that  mule,  and  ride  on!"  she  commanded. 
"  If  you  linger  or  return,  I  shall  kill  you !  " 

He  made  no  answer,  but  he  rode  away.  She  watched 
him  until  he  became  a  mere  speck  in  the  distance.  Then 
she  hurried  back  to  Bryan,  and  threw  herself  down  by  his 
side. 

"  My  love!  my  love!"  she  murmured.  "There  is  no 
peace,  nor  any  happiness  in  life!    Death  alone  is  sweet!  " 

She  drew  his  lips  to  hers,  and  wound  her  arms  around  his 
body.  And  once  more  the  night  stole  down  and  covered 
them  with  its  shadows. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

A   PRINCE   OF  THE   WEST 

A  MAN  sat  writing  before  a  rosewood  desk  in  a  great 
dimly-lit  chamber.  A  single  green-shaded  lamp  burned  at 
his  left  elbow,  throwing  a  stream  of  light  upon  the  papers 
before  him,  and  upon  his  face.  The  rest  of  the  room,  high 
and  finely  proportioned,  was  wrapped  in  shadows,  not  so 
dense  but  that  here  and  there  the  pale  marble  face  of  some 
exquisite  piece  of  statuary  shone  dimly  through  the  gloom, 
wearing  in  the  dim  half-light  a  strangely  human  expression. 
The  hard  polished  wood  floor,  inlaid  with  imitation  mosaic, 
was  spread  with  magnificent  rugs,  and  the  ceiling,  painted 
at  the  base  with  a  wonderful  imitation  of  Watteau's  "  Sea- 
sons." rose  to  a  dome  rilled  in  at  the  summit  with  richly- 
stained  glass.  To  all  appearance  it  was  a  chamber  in  a 
palace. 

Before  him  were  all  the  modern  appliances  of  a  man 
keenly  in  touch  with  great  affairs,  either  diplomatic  or 
commercial.  A  table  telephone  stood  at  his  right  hand, 
with  a  polished  silver  mouthpiece.  Under  his  foot  was  the 
knob  of  an  electric  bell;  on  his  left  hand  a  little  array  of 
speaking  tubes,  and  a  private  telephone.  Facing  him  was 
a  little  French  clock. 

The  face  of  the  man  who  sat  there  was  such  as  his  sur- 
roundings would  seem  to  warrant  —  it  was  remarkable. 

148 


A   PRINCE    OF   THE   Wl  149 

His  complexion  was  fair,  but  his  eyes  were  dark  and  bril- 
liant. His  features  were  hard,  and  cleanly  chiseled.  He 
wore  neither  beard  nor  moustache.,  and  his  mouth  was 
small  and  cruel.  He  was  of  no  more  than  the  average 
height  —  if  any  tiling,  less  —  carefully  dressed  in  evening 
clothes,  and  he  wore  a  small  orchid  in  his  buttonhole.  It 
ssible  to  form  any  estimate  of  his  ag  .his 

appearance.  There  was  none  of  the  elasticity  of  youth 
about  him,  nor  were  there  any  of  the  usual  indications  of 
middle  age.  Of  his  condition  it  would  be  fair  to  assume 
from  his  appearance  that  he  was  a  gentleman:  the  man 
himself  remained  effect ually  concealed  behind  a  mask  of 
perfectly  impassive  featu 

He  sat  writing  a  letter  —  writing  it  at  great  pace,  and 
yet  with  apparent  ease.  Suddenly  there  came  a  low.  soft 
whistle  from  one  of  the  speaking-tubes  by  his  side.  With- 
out discontinuing  his  writing,  he  detached  it  from  the  hook. 
and  held  it  to  his  ear. 

•■  A  woman  to  see  you,  sir!  No  name,  important  busi- 
n  as!" 

He  turned  his  head  slightly,  and  spoke  down  the  tube. 

"  Impossible!    I  can  see  no  one  to-night!    Send  her  to 
n.  if  she  persists!  " 

He  continued  his  letter.    In  a  few  moments  there  i  I 
another  interruption.    Tins  time  it  came  from  the  speaking 
tube  nearest  to  him.    He  took  it  up. 

••  Well?  " 

"  There  is  a  woman  here,  whom  you  must  see,  sir!  " 

"Who  is  she?  " 

••  I  am  not  sure.  sir.  but  I  have  her  card!  " 

••  What  is  the  name,  then?  " 

"  There  is  no  name,  sir.  There  are  three  crosses  on  the 
card!  " 

The  pen,  with  winch  he  had  never  ceased  to  write,  sud- 


150     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

denly  stopped  short.  One  might  almost  have  thought  that 
the  firm  white  fingers  which  held  it  trembled  a  little. 

"  Better  bring  her  here  yourself,  Arden!  "  was  the  quiet 
answer.    "  You  understand!  " 

"Yes,  sir!" 

He  put  the  tube  back  on  the  hook,  but  he  did  not  continue 
the  letter.  He  touched  a  spring  in  the  desk  before  him,  and 
a  long  slab  of  dark  wood  sprang  back,  revealing  an  ill-taken, 
much-worn  photograph  of  a  woman,  on  a  common  tin  plate. 
He  looked  at  it  steadily,  and  his  lips  moved. 

"  Not  in  vain,  after  all!  "  he  murmured  slowly  to  him- 
self, with  bright  kindling  eyes,  and  a  curious  tremor  in  his 
tone.  "  If  it  should  be  she,  my  cup  is  full!  If  it  should  be 
she!" 

He  touched  the  spring,  and  the  photograph  was  hidden 
again.  He  recommenced  writing,  and  his  features  recovered 
their  mask  of  stern  repose.  He  heard  the  heavy  door  open 
and  close  behind  him  without  looking  up.  Soft  footsteps 
came  towards  him  across  the  floor,  swiftly  at  first,  then 
hesitatingly.  At  last  they  stopped.  Then  he  turned  slowly 
round. 

A  woman  was  standing  only  a  few  yards  behind  his  chair 
—  a  woman  plainly  dressed  in  black  clothes,  and  wearing 
a  heavy  gauze  veil  which  she  had  not  raised.  For  one 
moment  the  unruly  blood  coursed  like  fire  through  all  his 
veins,  and  his  heart  gave  a  great  throb.  Then  he  set  his 
teeth,  and  ground  his  heel  into  the  floor  beneath  him.  He 
was  himself  again,  calm,  cold,  and  deliberate. 

"  You  wished  to  speak  to  me?  "  he  said.  "lam  Amies 
Rutten!" 

"Yes!" 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  and  pushed  a  lounge  towards  her  with 
a  mute,  courteous  gesture.    She  did  not  accept  it. 

"  I  have  come  to  you  with  a  message  from  a  dead  man!  " 
she  continued. 


A   PRINCE   OF   THE   WEST  151 

He  bowed.    "  So  Jim  is  dead,  is  he?  " 

She  bent  her  head,  and  started  a  little.  She  had  im- 
agined herself  unrecognized. 

"  He  died  at  the  Blue  River  diggings!  " 

"  May  I  ask  from  whom  you  have  heard  this?  " 

"  I  was  there  myself!  "  she  answered.  "  I  was  with 
him  when  he  died!  " 

"  You  were  with  him  yourself,"  he  repeated  slowly  — ■ 
"  with  him  when  he  died  at  the  Blue  River  diggings?  " 

"Yes!" 

"  Pardon  me,  you  did  not  go  with  him!  You  were  in  San 
Francisco  months  after  he  had  left!  " 

She  looked  at  him  intently. 

"  That  is  true!  "  she  answered.  "  It  is  also  true  that  I 
was  with  him  there  when  he  died!  " 

"  May  I  ask  —  the  cause  of  his  death?  " 

"  He  was  shot!" 

"  Shot!  "  He  repeated  the  word  without  any  affectation 
of  horror.    He  did  not  even  seem  surprised. 

"  A  row,  I  suppose?  "  he  remarked. 

She  shook  her  head.  "  He  was  murdered  by  a  stranger 
who  came  to  the  diggings  to  rob  him  of  some  papers.  I 
was  in  time  to  prevent  the  robbery,  but  not  the  murder. 
As  I  told  you,  I  was  with  him  when  he  died.  I  have  a 
message  for  you!  " 

"  For  me?  " 

"  Yes,  for  you!  You  have  papers  of  his.  You  are  to  give 
them  to  me!  I  put  three  crosses  on  a  card.  He  said  you 
would  understand!  " 

"  Yes,  I  understand.  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  the 
papers?  " 

"  That  is  —  my  own  affair!  " 

"Exactly!  I  beg  your  pardon!  He  gave  you  some,  I 
suppose?  " 


152     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

"Yes!" 

"  And  told  you  that  I  had  the  rest?  " 

"Yes!" 

There  was  a  short  silence.  They  were  alone  in  the  great 
room,  but  when  he  spoke  again,  he  dropped  his  voice. 

"  It  is  quite  true !  I  have  the  papers !  Do  you  know  the 
secret?  " 

11  Not  yet!    I  have  not  examined  them!  " 

"  Do  you  know  how  to  use  them?  " 

"Yes!" 

"  You  are  going  to  take  them  to  Europe?  " 

"Probably!" 

"  And  stay  there,  perhaps?  " 

"  Very  likely!  Give  me  the  papers,  please.  I  want  to 
go!" 

"  Don't  be  impatient,  Myra!   You  have  been  ill?  " 

"Yes!   I  have  been  ill!" 

"Poor  little  girl!" 

His  tone  was  suddenly  as  soft  as  a  woman's,  and  almost 
caressing.    She  shivered  at  the  sound  of  it. 

"  Amies  Rutten,  give  me  my  papers,  and  let  me  go!  " 

"  Let  you  go!  "  he  repeated  softly.  "  Let  you  go!  How 
can  I?  " 

A  sudden  change,  a  metamorphosis,  came  over  the  man. 
The  hardness  fell  from  his  face,  a  passionate  light  shone  in 
his  eyes,  and  his  lips  quivered  as  the  words  leaped  from 
him.    His  voice  had  become  wonderfully  sweet. 

"  Let  you  go,  Myra!  Ah,  my  love,  how  can  you  ask  me 
that?  Do  you  know  that  I  have  had  the  city  searched  for 
you,  street  by  street,  house  by  house?  Do  you  know  that 
in  the  midst  of  my  great  prosperity,  I  have  sat  here  all  night 
alone  —  thinking  of  you ;  unable  to  sleep  or  rest,  or  gain 
any  peace  —  thinking  always  of  you?  And  in  the  daytime, 
when  I  have  been  gambling  for  millions  at  the  Exchange 


A   PRINCE   OF   THE   WEST  153 

in  the  Council  Room,  your  face  has  been  always  with  me, 
smiling  when  fate  smiled  on  me,  frowning  when  the  tide 
turned!    See!    Do  you  know  that?  " 

He  stepped  back  and  touched  the  knob  in  his  desk.  The 
spring  flew  back.  He  held  up  the  lamp,  and  she  looked  into 
her  own  face. 

"  I  gave  your  husband  a  thousand  dollars  for  that!  "  he 
said  quietly.  "  He  would  have  sold  you  for  as  much  more, 
if  he  had  been  able!  " 

She  shuddered.  "I  did  not  come  here  for  this!  "  she 
cried.    "  Give  me  what  belongs  to  me,  and  let  me  go!  " 

"  You  shall  have  all  that  belongs  to  you  —  and  all  that 
belongs  to  me!  "  he  exclaimed,  his  deep  bass  tones  quiver- 
ing with  pent-up  emotion.    "  See!  " 

He  stepped  back  to  the  wall,  and  touched  a  little  black 
ebony  key.  Softly-burning  electric  lights  suddenly  glowed 
from  the  walls  and  from  the  ceiling.  The  magnificence  of 
the  room  in  which  they  were  was  revealed  as  though  by 
magic,  with  all  its  treasures  of  art  and  luxury  of  appoint- 
ment. She  looked  around,  and  was  startled  into  a  little 
cry  of  wonder.  Then  her  eyes  fell  upon  him,  standing  be- 
fore her,  perfectly  dressed,  calm  and  debonair,  and  with 
that  curious  air  of  strength  and  power  which  lurked  behind 
his  strong  set  features  —  the  evident  master  of  his  surround- 
ings. She  half-closed  her  eyes,  and  turned  abruptly  away. 
She  had  not  feared  an  awful  death  in  the  lonely  desert;  she 
had  passed  through  many  dangers  with  a  bold  front,  and 
unshaken  heart;  but  this  man  she  feared.  She  always  had 
done  so !  The  gleam  of  his  dark  eyes,  the  timbre  of  his  calm, 
even  voice  stirred  her  as  nothing  else  in  the  world  could  do. 

"  Myra,  whilst  you  have  been  seeing  the  last  of  that 
scoundrel  Huntly,  I  have  been  making  a  mighty  fortune! 
It  came  to  me  in  one  day  —  the  idea  of  the  thing !  I  staked 
all  I  had  —  all  I  could  lay  my  hands  upon,  and  I  won!   To- 


154     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

day,  I  am  the  richest  man  in  San  Francisco  —  one  of  the 
richest  in  the  States.  Do  you  know  why  I  am  here  —  why 
I  have  not  left  for  Europe,  to  commence  the  enjoyment  of 
my  wealth?  It  is  because  I  have  been  waiting  for  you, 
Myra!  Every  man  in  the  world  has  his  weak  point!  You 
are  mine,  Myra!  I  love  you  as  no  one  else  could  ever  love 
you.  Come  to  me  now,  and  I  will  make  you  the  most 
envied  woman  in  the  world.  There  are  no  limits  to  my 
wealth!  I  can  buy  you  a  Queen's  jewels.  Wealth  is  power 
in  the  old  world  as  well  as  in  the  new.  You  shall  ask  for 
nothing  in  vain!  It  is  only  dear  to  me,  Myra,  that  I  may 
share  it  with  you.  I  will  show  you  a  new  life.  I  will  teach 
you  many  new  things !  I  have  no  ties,  no  further  interest  in 
any  business.  I  will  take  you  to  Italy,  to  Greece,  to  all  the 
beautiful  countries  in  the  world.    I  will  show  you " 

"Stop!" 

There  was  a  ring  in  her  voice  which  checked  him  in  the 
full  flow  of  his  eloquence.  His  hands  dropped  to  his  side, 
and  the  glow  faded  from  his  face.  He  listened  to  her  with 
all  the  old  impenetrability  of  expression. 

She  lifted  her  veil,  and  showed  him  more  distinctly  than 
he  had  yet  seen  it,  her  worn,  sad  face.  Then  she  spoke 
to  him  slowly,  but  with  an  intense,  penetrating  distinct- 
ness. 

"  I  have  listened  to  all  you  have  said!  I  would  not  come 
to  you,  Amies  Rutten,  though  my  life  were  to  be  the  penalty. 
I  hate  you !  My  husband  was  a  bad  man,  but  you  made  him 
worse.  You  made  him  your  tool;  he  did  for  you  the  work 
which  you  were  ashamed  to  do,  and  when  you  had  dragged 
him  down  as  low  as  a  man  can  lie,  when  he  was  your  crea- 
ture, body  and  soul,  you  tried  to  buy  me  from  him!  " 

An  angry  spot  was  burning  upon  her  cheeks,  and  her  eyes 
were  flashing  with  scorn  and  anger.  The  memory  of  those 
hideous  days  had  risen  up  within  her,  and  with  it,  all  the 


A   PRINCE   OF  THE  WEST  155 

intolerable  loathing  which  she  had  felt  for  this  man.  He 
looked  into  her  face,  and  silently  he  ground  his  teeth. 

"  It  was  because  I  loved  you,  that  I  wanted  to  take  you 
away!  "  he  cried  in  a  low,  passionate  voice.  "  That  man 
was  treating  you  like  a  brute!  You  may  have  been  his 
wife.  He  treated  you  worse  than  any  mistress  whom  he 
had  taken  from  the  streets !  Good  God !  do  you  blame  me 
that  I  tried  to  take  you  away?  Think  of  those  days,  and 
ask  yourself  that!  " 

"  Let  the  past  be,  Amies  Rutten!  "  she  said.  "  He  is 
dead,  and  I  have  forgiven  him!  Give  me  my  papers,  and 
let  me  go!  There  can  never  be  anything  between  you  and 
me!" 

He  stood  perfectly  still  for  a  moment  or  two,  and  when 
she  looked  at  him,  wondering  at  his  silence,  she  was  afraid. 

He  spoke  to  her  at  last.  No  matter  what  he  was  going  to 
say,  it  was  a  relief  to  her  to  hear  him  speak. 

"  You  are  wrong,  Myra!  "  he  said  slowly.  "  There  will 
be  something  between  us,  so  surely  as  I,  Amies  Rutten, 
speak  the  words!  There  is  no  power  in  this  world  shall 
keep  you  from  me !  You  may  struggle  a  little  while !  Never 
mind !  My  time  will  surely  come !  You  are  poor !  You  will 
become  poorer !  I  shall  see  to  it !  Wealth  will  taste  all  the 
sweeter  presently.  What  was  it  you  were  asking  for  — 
papers?    I  have  no  papers!  " 

She  drew  a  pencil  and  card  from  her  pocket,  and  wrote 
the  words  which  the  dying  man  had  whispered  into  her  ear. 
He  grew  a  shade  paler  as  he  read  them,  but  he  did  not 
hesitate.  He  tore  the  card  into  pieces,  and  scattered  them 
at  her  feet. 

"  I  am  above  all  danger  from  such  a  source  as  this!  "  he 
said  calmly.  "  If  I  were  not,  I  should  not  hesitate!  I 
should  do  what  I  have  done!  I  will  give  you  nothing  until 
you  come  to  me!   Nothing!  " 


156     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

He  hesitated  for  a  moment.  When  he  continued,  his 
deep  tone  was  tremulous  with  emotion,  and  the  passion  had 
leaped  once  more  into  his  face. 

"  Is  it  worth  while,  Myra,  my  love;  is  it  worth  while  to 
face  suffering,  and  poverty,  and  shame ;  to  endure  them  all, 
for  the  sake  of  a  hopeless  struggle?  Every  day  will  bring 
you  nearer  to  me !  In  the  end  you  will  be  mine !  It  is  your 
destiny!  Do  you  think  that  you  can  match  your  single 
will  against  mine  —  mine  backed  by  endless  wealth  and  un- 
flagging energy?  When  you  leave  here  to-night,  my  spies 
will  follow  you;  where  you  are  living,  and  with  whom, 
will  be  known  to  me !  Every  effort  you  make  to  get  away, 
I  shall  easily  find  out  and  thwart.  Myra,  is  it  worth  while?  " 
he  continued,  a  wonderful  tenderness  stealing  into  his  tone 
as  he  leaned  over  towards  her.  "  We  could  leave  for  Europe 
at  once,  on  Saturday  if  you  like.  I  will  be  your  slave !  You 
shall  command,  and  I  will  obey.  Say  but  one  word,  Myra, 
and  a  few  strokes  of  my  pen,"  he  pointed  to  the  open  desk, 
"  shall  make  you  rich  for  life  —  as  rich  as  any  woman  in  San 
Francisco!  You  have  lived  all  your  days  amongst  the 
shadows,  you  know  nothing  of  the  beautiful  side  of  life! 
I  will  show  it  to  you!  You  do  not  care  for  me.  Well,  I 
know  it !  But  it  is  because  you  do  not  know  me !  You  have 
thought  of  me  only  as  the  associate  of  such  men  as  Huntly ! 
I  will  show  you  the  other  and  the  better  side  of  myself.  I 
will  show  you  other  worlds  into  which  I  have  the  entry,  the 
worlds  of  art,  and  music,  and  poetry,  which  I  have  always 
loved  in  secret,  and  which  I  will  teach  you  to  love  too.  I 
will  make  your  life  one  long  dream  of  pleasure;  pleasure, 
poor  child,  which  you  have  never  dreamed  of.  You  shall 
forget  all  your  sufferings,  all  the  miserable  humiliation  of 
your  life  with  that  scoundrel  who  blackened  your  young 
days.  You  shall  be  born  again  into  a  new  world,  a  world  of 
culture  and  refinement,  and  a  perfect  happiness.    I  promise 


A   PRINCE   OF   THE   WEST  157 

you  this,  Myra,  and  I  will  keep  my  word  unto  the  uttermost 
letter!  " 

She  had  listened  to  him  with  averted  head,  and  she  had 
dropped  her  veil,  so  that  he  was  not  able  to  gather  in  any 
way  from  her  face  what  impression  his  words  had  made  upon 
her.  But  when  he  had  finished,  she  looked  up,  and  he  knew 
at  once. 

"  You  will  not  give  me  the  papers,  then?  "  she  said. 

"  I  will  not!  "  he  answered,  looking  away  that  she  might 
not  see  how  bitterly  disappointed  he  was.  "  I  will  give  you 
the  papers,  and  a  fortune  of  ten  times  their  value,  when  you 
come  to  me !    But  it  must  be  all  or  nothing !  " 

She  turned  away,  and  walked  towards  the  door.  He 
touched  a  bell,  and  a  servant  met  her  there.  She  did  not 
look  round  or  speak  to  him  again. 

He  took  up  one  of  the  speaking-tubes,  and  spoke  into  it. 

"  The  girl  who  has  just  left  me  is  to  be  followed  home  and 
watched!  "  he  said.  "  Jameson  and  Ardell  had  better  take 
the  matter  in  hand.  See  that  I  have  a  full  report  every  few 
hours!  " 

Then  he  sat  down  at  his  desk,  and  drew  his  papers  to- 
wards him.    But  he  did  not  write  any  more. 


CHAPTER  XX 

MAN  THE  BRUTE   AND   WOMAN  THE   ANGEL 

"  At  last,  Myra!  Was  the  man  away,  or  dead,  or  what? 
Give  me  a  drink!    I'm  parched!  " 

The  Englishman  half-raised  himself  from  a  shabby  little 
couch  which  groaned  and  creaked  with  his  weight,  and  held 
out  his  hand  to  her.  His  cheeks  were  blanched  and  thin, 
and  his  eyes  were  unnaturally  bright.  The  fever  through 
which  he  had  passed  had  played  strange  havoc  with  him. 

She  stood  still  for  a  moment  to  recover  her  breath;  she 
had  run  up  seven  flights  of  steep  stairs  without  a  pause. 
Then  she  threw  her  hat  on  to  the  table,  and  poured  him  out 
some  lemonade  from  a  jug. 

"  Has  it  seemed  very  long?  "  she  said  softly.  "lam 
sorry!    I  had  to  walk  back,  and  it  was  a  long  way!  " 

He  drained  the  cup  and  set  it  down.  Then  he  drew  a 
long  breath,  and  looked  fixedly  at  her. 

"Well?  "he  said. 

She  knelt  down  by  his  side,  and  leant  her  head  upon  his 
pillow. 

"  I  have  failed!  "  she  whispered  huskily.  "  He  would 
not  give  them  tome!" 

"  He  would  not  give  them  to  you! "  the  Englishman 
faltered.  "  Has  he  got  them?  Did  he  say  that  he  had 
them?  " 

158 


MAN   THE   BRUTE  159 

"Yes,  he  has  them!" 

"  Did  he  say  so?  " 

"Yes!" 

"  Then  why  will  he  not  give  them  up?  Does  he  want 
money?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  He  is  as  rich  as  a  prince  now.  He  has  no  need  of 
money! " 

"  Then  why  won't  he  give  them  up  —  why  won't  he? 
Have  you  forgotten  anything  that  Jim  told  you  to  say  to 
him,  eh?  " 

His  face  and  even  his  limbs  were  shaking  with  the  excite- 
ment which  he  was  too  weak  to  bear.  His  long,  thin  fingers 
were  clutched  around  her  wrist,  and  his  bright  eyes  were 
fastened  upon  her. 

"  I  remembered  everything!    It  was  not  that!  " 

"  Go  on!  go  on!  "  he  muttered. 

"  Bryan,"  she  whispered,  burying  her  face  in  the  pillow 
by  his  side,  "  do  you  remember  —  I  told  you  about  the 
man,  and  how  he  persecuted  me  in  the  days  when  Jim  and 
he  were  together  so  much?    Do  you  remember?  " 

"  Ay,  something  of  it!    Go  on!  " 

"He  —  he  has  not  forgotten!  He  has  been  searching  for 
me  everywhere !    He  —  oh,  don't  you  understand?  " 

"  No,  I'm  d d  if  I  do!  "  the  Englishman  answered 

peevishly.    "  Speak  out,  do!  " 

She  drew  a  little  breath  between  her  teeth,  and  looked  at 
him  with  white  face,  but  without  flinching. 

"  He  wants  me  to  go  and  live  with  him !  That  is  the  price 
of  those  papers!  " 

"Ah!" 

The  eager  light  died  suddenly  out  from  his  face.  He  sank 
back  on  the  couch,  pale  almost  to  the  lips,  and  with  half- 
closed  eyes.    She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  in  alarm,  and 


160  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

then  ran  hastily  across  the  room  to  a  clipboard,  and  poured 
out  a  few  drops  of  brandy  into  a  glass. 

"  Bryan/'  she  whispered,  bending  over  him.  "  Oh,  don't ! 
You  mustn't  faint,  dear !  .Remember  what  the  doctor  said ! " 

She  forced  the  brandy  between  his  lips,  and  kissed  them. 
He  shivered  and  opened  his  eyes. 

"  I'm  —  all  right!  "  he  muttered.  "  It's  so  stewing  hot 
up  here.    Open  the  window  higher,  Myra!  " 

She  pushed  it  up  a  few  more  inches,  but  there  seemed  to 
be  scarcely  a  breath  of  air.  From  the  narrow  street  below 
came  the  murmur  of  a  strange  babel  of  tongues,  reaching 
them,  however,  but  faintly.  Away  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
see,  flared  up  to  the  sky  the  lights  from  the  great  city  of 
pleasure. 

"  Bryan,  after  I  left  him,"  she  whispered,  "  I  went  to 
Jos6's  Cafe,  and  saw  the  man  whom  Jim  told  me  to  see.  I 
told  him  the  whole  story.  He  made  me  repeat  it  twice,  and 
then  he  sent  me  away  without  a  word.  But,  Bryan,  I  am 
afraid  that  Amies  Rutten  is  far  above  the  power  of  these 
men  now.    They  won't  be  able  to  touch  him!  " 

"  I  will  go  to  him  myself!  "  the  Englishman  muttered. 
"The  papers  belong  to  me!  I  will  make  him  give  them 
up!" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  It  would  not  be  a  bit  of  use!  "  she  said  sadly.  "  If 
he  knew  that  it  was  for  you  I  wanted  them,  he  would  throw 
them  on  the  fire!  " 

He  looked  away  out  of  the  open  window.  He  had  been 
very  ill,  and  the  fever  which  had  brought  him  to  the  brink 
of  death  had  left  him  very  low  and  weak.  Just  then  he 
felt  that  it  would  be  rather  a  relief  to  die. 

"  I  came  here  —  to  get  those  papers!  "  he  said  slowly. 
"  I  vowed  that  I  would  get  them!  Well,  I  have  failed!  I 
may  as  well  die !    I'd  just  as  lief !    I'm  only  a  burden  to  you, 


MAN   THE   BRUTE  161 

you're  starving  yourself  for  my  sake!  I'm  not  worth  it! 
Better  let  me  die,  Myra  —  much  better!  " 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  Watching  her,  he  could  see 
more  clearly  than  ever  how  thin  and  white  she  was.  Her 
black  gown  shone  with  wear,  and  was  mended  in  many 
places.  The  roundness  had  gone  from  her  form,  and  the  fire 
from  her  eyes.  It  was  odd  that  she  remained  so  beautiful. 
He  looked  around  the  little  room.  It  was  bare  and  empty  — 
utterly  poverty-stricken.  Everything  had  been  given  to 
keep  him  alive  —  her  few  trinkets,  her  oddments  of  finery, 
even  some  dainty  little  treasures  of  fine  linen,  which  had 
been  her  single  luxury.    His  brows  contracted  into  a  frown. 

"  Myra,  why  don't  you  let  me  die?  "  he  said  fretfully. 
"  I'd  just  as  soon !  I  shall  never  see  England  again  now !  I 
don't  want  to  be  a  burden  upon  you  like  this!  " 

She  bent  over  him,  sad  but  dry-eyed.  All  that  she  had 
done  for  him  was  as  nothing  to  her;  would  have  seemed 
infinitely  less  than  nothing  if  only  he  had  known  how  to 
repay  her.  Her  eyes  met  his  wistfully.  Would  it  have  been 
so  great  a  sacrifice  for  him  to  have  drawn  her  down  and 
kissed  her  just  once;  to  have  pressed  her  hand,  and  to  have 
suffered  just  one  note  of  tenderness  to  have  crept  into  his 
tone?  Her  record  of  the  last  few  weeks  had  been  one  long 
course  of  martyrdom  for  his  sake.  For  his  sake  she  had 
looked  death  in  the  face.  For  his  sake  Dan  Cooper  had  lain 
dead  with  his  sightless  eyes  turned  to  heaven,  slain  by  her 
hand.  It  was  the  last  extremity  of  self-defence  —  but  the 
thing  pressed  on  her  heart,  and  at  night-time  his  cold,  white 
face  and  glazed  eyes  had  stolen  to  her  side  out  of  the 
shadows  of  many  a  nightmare.  She  would  never  be  quite 
able  to  forget  that  her  hand  had  taken  human  life,  although 
the  burden  would  seem  less  to  her  since  it  was  for  his  sake 
that  she  bore  it.  And  in  the  rude  wagons  of  the  gold- 
seekers  from  Christopher's  Creek  who  had  rescued  them, 


162  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

and  brought  them  to  San  Francisco,  she  had  sat  from  sun- 
rise to  sunset  with  his  head  in  her  lap,  watching  him  and 
ministering  to  the  wants  of  his  fever.  Those  days  and  the 
days  which  followed  left  their  mark  for  ever  upon  her  life. 
They  had  reached  the  city  one  morning,  and  she  had 
brought  him  to  these  rooms  which  she  herself  had  once 
occupied,  and  had  collected  the  few  remnants  of  her  little 
stock  of  furniture,  doing  her  best  to  make  the  place  habit- 
able. The  fever  was  followed  by  a  lethargy  almost  as  wear- 
ing. She  had  no  money,  and  the  gold  which  he  had  brought 
from  the  Blue  River  had  been  lost  in  the  desert.  One  by 
one  her  little  stock  of  possessions  had  gone  to  keep  him  in 
food,  and  pay  the  doctor.  Of  her  few  trinkets,  she  had  not 
one  left;  three  days  ago  she  had  sold  the  wedding-ring 
which  Maurice  Huntly  had  placed  upon  her  finger.  Even 
her  gowns  had  gone!  She  had  only  the  one  she  stood  up- 
right in.  And  all  the  time  she  had  not  breathed  a  word  to 
him  of  the  straits  in  which  they  were.  Her  one  thought  had 
been  of  him,  and  her  one  prayer  for  his  life !  She  had  saved 
it!  —  saved  it  for  what,  and  for  whom? 

He  was  by  no  means  a  bad  man.  He  had  many  good 
qualities,  and  the  instincts  which  belong  to  them;  and  in 
the  days  which  came  afterwards,  he  suffered  many  times 
and  deeply  when  he  reviewed  his  conduct  at  this  time.  For 
without  doubt,  he  was  both  callous  and  brutally  selfish. 
The  peevishness  of  the  invalid  had  transformed  him.  The 
sense  of  his  reliance  upon  her  fretted  and  worried  him.  He 
would  rather  have  been  left  to  die  in  the  desert  than  owe  so 
much  to  her.  A  sort  of  sullenness  came  over  him.  He  had 
not  uttered  a  single  word  of  thanks,  not  a  single  grateful 
sentence.  Her  loving  care,  the  sufferings  and  privations 
which  she  had  borne,  went  for  nothing  with  him.  In  his 
sleep  he  had  raved  for  the  papers,  and  for  his  sake  she  had 
gone  to  the  man  whom  she  both  feared  and  loathed,  seeking 


MAN   THE   BRUTE  163 

to  obtain  them  for  him.  In  vain,  too,  had  been  this  last 
service.  Not  even  by  a  single  look  had  he  shown  her  any 
measure  of  gratitude. 

The  night  wore  on,  and  the  lights  of  the  great  city  flared 
up  into  the  dark  sky.  He  had  fallen  into  a  troubled  slum- 
ber, and  she  was  on  her  knees  by  his  side,  gazing  with  rapt 
face  but  unseeing  eyes  out  of  the  wide-open  window.  The 
harsh  clanging  of  the  engine  bells  as  the  cars  wound  their 
way  across  the  maze  of  streets  into  the  heart  of  the  city,  and 
the  rattle  of  the  serpent-like  trains  sweeping  along  the  over- 
head railway,  were  unheard.  She  saw  nothing  and  heard 
nothing.  She  thought  only  of  herself  and  him,  two  lone 
figures  in  the  dark  tragedy  of  her  young  life.  In  his  indif- 
ference she  seemed  to  read  the  hopelessness  of  her  fate.  It 
had  been  her  last  sweet  hope,  her  only  salvation;  and  it 
was  gone.  In  the  calm  brooding  silence  of  the  later  night, 
she  saw  as  it  were,  written  in  letters  of  fire  across  the  dark 
sky,  the  cruel  and  hopeless  record  of  these  last  days.  He 
was  weary  of  her !  Even  her  mere  presence  fretted  and  dis- 
turbed him.  He  was  ashamed  of  the  days  that  had  been; 
ashamed  to  owe  her  this  return  into  the  world  from  amongst 
the  very  shadows  of  death.  It  was  so!  She  could  not  alter 
it,  the  very  snapping  of  her  heart-strings  could  not  make  it 
any  different.  In  this  moment  of  acute  and  agonizing 
realization,  out  of  the  great  despair  which  swept  in  upon 
her,  was  born  that  first  glimmering  suggestion  of  her 
supreme  immolation.  All  through  the  night  it  grew  and 
grew  in  her  heart,  bringing  her  in  a  measure  some  sense  of 
strange  relief,  although  when  she  suffered  her  thoughts  to 
dwell  for  a  moment  upon  it  her  brain  reeled,  and  her  whole 
physical  system  rebelled  with  a  great  sense  of  shuddering 
recoil.    But  when  dawn  came,  it  lived! 


CHAPTER   XXI 

THE   OFFERING   OF   A  SOUL 

On  the  seventh  day  after  her  first  visit  to  him,  Myra 
stood  once  more  in  Amies  Rutten's  library.  She  had  found 
it  empty ;  he  was  at  dinner  with  some  friends,  the  servant 
told  her,  and  she  would  probably  have  to  wait  for  an  hour. 
But  in  less  than  five  minutes  he  pushed  aside  the  curtains 
and  entered  the  room ;  his  pale  face  flushed  a  little,  perhaps 
with  wine,  or  was  it  with  the  triumph  of  her  visit? 

He  walked  calmly  across  the  great  room,  banishing  all 
traces  of  expectation  from  his  face,  as  self-possessed  and 
impassive  in  manner  as  he  was  immaculate  in  the  white 
shirt-front  and  plain  gold  stud  of  his  evening  dress.  He 
placed  a  chair  for  her,  and  greeted  her  kindly,  choosing  to 
ignore  altogether  the  dumb  misery  stamped  into  her  white 
face. 

"  You  have  come  to  see  me,  then,  Myra,"  he  said. 
"That's  well!" 

"  Yes,  I  have  come,"  she  answered.  "  I  do  not  want  to 
talk  much.    I  am  tired." 

"  You  look  it,"  he  answered  pityingly.  "  Wait  a  mo- 
ment." 

He  unlocked  a  cabinet,  and  poured  out  a  glass  of  rich 
ruby-coloured  wine.  Then  he  brought  it  to  her,  and  after 
a  moment's  hesitation  she  accepted  and  drank  it.    It  ran 

164 


THE   OFFERING   OF  A   SOUL  165 

through  her  veins  like  lightning,  and  brought  even  a  faint 
flush  into  her  cheeks. 

"  Poor  child!  "  he  said  softly.  "  Myra,  why  did  you  set 
yourself  against  me?  Sooner  or  later  I  was  bound  to  win. 
Now  tell  me;  you  have  a  proposition  to  make." 

She  bowed  her  head.    "  Yes." 

"  Well,  don't  hurry  about  it.  My  time  is  my  own.  I 
have  told  my  friends  that  I  may  be  engaged  for  some  time." 

"  Thank  you.  I  am  a  little  faint.  It  was  hot,  waiting. 
I  will  rest  for  a  minute." 

She  half  closed  her  eyes,  and  he  watched  her  steadily  for 
a  few  seconds.  He  understood  too  well  the  meaning  of  those 
sunken  cheeks,  and  the  dark  rims  under  her  eyes.  It  was 
not  only  mental  suffering  that  had  worked  this  havoc,  it  was 
hunger,  starvation.  He  crossed  to  one  of  the  speaking- 
tubes,  and  whispered  a  few  sentences  down  it.  When  she 
opened  her  eyes,  there  was  a  small  table  by  her  side,  spread 
with  a  white  cloth,  a  silver  dish  of  oysters,  some  pat6,  fruit, 
and  a  bottle  of  gold-foiled  wine,  a  glass  of  which  was  already 
poured  out. 

"You  were  fond  of  oysters  once,  Myra!"  he  said, 
coming  over  to  her.    "  Take  some;  you  need  food." 

She  shrank  back,  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 
But  he  insisted  quietly,  and  in  the  end  she  yielded.  After 
all,  if  this  thing  was  to  be,  she  might  just  as  well  eat  his  food 
and  drink  his  wine.  She  ate,  the  first  time  for  twenty-four 
hours,  and  took  a  few  sips  of  the  wine.  Then  she  called  to 
him;  he  had  walked  across  to  his  desk,  and  was  sitting 
there,  writing,  or  pretending  to  write. 

He  came  to  her  at  once. 

"  I  am  here,  Myra,"  he  said. 

She  stood  up  —  stood  away  from  the  table,  and  as  near 
as  possible  to  the  lamp. 

"  I  want  you  to  look  at  me! "  she  said,  in  a  dull,  me- 


166     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

chanical  tone.  "  I  want  you  to  see  me  exactly  as  I  am.  I 
am  thin  —  thinner  than  I  have  ever  been  in  my  life.  Look 
at  my  face!  I  have  lost  my  beauty!  I  am  just  a  wreck, 
and  I  never  expect  to  be  anything  better.  Do  you  still 
want  me?  " 

"  More  than  ever!  "  he  answered  quietly.  "  More  than 
ever,  that  I  may  show  you  a  life  which  knows  no  privations, 
and  no  unhappiness." 

"  Let  me  go  right  on,  please!  "  she  said  slowly.  "  I  dis- 
like you  more  than  any  living  man.  I  think  that  I  hate 
you!  The  touch  of  your  fingers  would  make  me  shudder 
now,  as  it  has  done  before!  You  understand  that!  Do 
you  still  want  me?" 

"  More  than  ever!  "  he  answered,  in  the  same  tone.  "  I 
shall  show  you  that  I  am  not  the  man  you  think  I  am !  I 
do  not  blame  you  for  hating  me  now !  I  shall  teach  you  to 
love  me!" 

"  I  never  could!   Never!   never!  " 

"  That  is  my  risk !  "  he  answered.    "  I  am  content !  " 

She  drew  her  hands  together  and  shivered,  half-closing 
her  eyes.  For  a  full  minute  there  was  silence  between  them. 
Then  she  spoke  again,  and  her  voice  had  an  odd  far-away 
sound  in  it. 

"lam  willing  to  come  to  you!  "  she  said.  "  There  is  a 
condition.    You  must  hear  it  first!  " 

He  turned  his  head  away.  He  did  not  wish  her  to  see 
the  sudden  glow  of  passion  which  had  transformed  his  cold, 
set  face. 

"  I  am  listening!  "  he  said. 

"I  want  you  to  give  the  papers  now  —  to-night;  and 
some  money.    I  will  come  to  you  to-morrow!  " 

His  face  darkened.  He  had  no  fear  of  her  not  keeping 
her  word,  but  he  had  a  particular  reluctance  to  letting  her 
go.    He  knew  with  whom  she  was  sharing  her  room,  and 


THE   OFFERING   OF   A   SOUL  167 

the  thought  was  like  fire  in  his  brain.  She  wanted  to  go 
back  to  him!  It  was  but  for  a  single  night,  and  yet  — 
curse  him! 

"  You  do  not  care  to  trust  me?"  she  asked. 

He  did  not  answer  her  immediately.  He  walked  to  his 
desk,  and,  unlocking  a  drawer,  took  out  a  little  pile  of  bills. 
Then  he  took  a  sealed  packet  from  the  same  place,  and 
thrust  them  all  into  her  hands. 

"  I  am  not  afraid  to  trust  you,  Myra!  "  he  said  gravely. 
"  Good  night !" 

She  gave  him  her  hand  with  a  little  shiver,  which  he 
affected  not  to  notice. 

"  Good  night!  "  she  answered.  "I  —  I  shall  be  here  to- 
morrow! " 

"  One  moment,  Myra!  "  he  said  slowly.  "  I  am  afraid 
that  you  find  this  very  terrible  to  look  forward  to!  You 
do  not  love  me  —  and  there  is  some  one  else  whom  you  do 
love!  The  money  and  the  papers  are,  I  presume,  for  him. 
He  is  welcome  to  them!  " 

There  was  a  ring  of  fine  scorn  in  his  tone.  Myra's  eyes 
fell  before  his. 

"  That  is  nothing!  "  he  continued.  "  All  that  I  want  to 
say  is  this,  Myra;  I  love  you,  and  as  surely  as  I  have  drawn 
you  into  my  arms,  so  surely  will  I  make  you  happy  there ! 
Try  and  believe  that!  Now,  good  night!  You  will  find  a 
carriage  waiting  for  you  at  the  door!  " 

She  let  down  her  veil,  and  passed  out  without  a  word, 
following  the  servant  whom  he  had  summoned.  And  Amies 
Rutten  went  back  to  his  guests  with  a  quiet  smile  upon  his 
lips,  and  a  curiously  bright  light  in  his  gray-blue  eyes. 

"  At  last,  Myra!   Great  Heavens,  what  a  time  you  have 
been!" 
She  laid  down  her  hat  upon  the  table,  and  looked  at  him. 


168  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

Directly  their  eyes  met  he  knew  that  something  had 
happened.  The  handwriting  of  tragedy  was  in  her  pale 
face  and  gleaming  eyes. 

"  Has  it  seemed  long?  "  she  said  absently.  "I  did  not 
think  that  you  would  notice!  " 

"  Where  have  you  been?  "    he  asked. 

"  No  matter!  Tell  me!  You  want  to  go  back  to  Eng- 
land, don't  you?  " 

He  turned  his  face  away  from  her,  and  looked  across  the 
great  shadowy  gulf  of  the  city,  with  its  blaze  of  lights. 
Beyond  was  the  sea.  His  eyes  caught  the  gleam  of  the 
harbour  lights  flashing  upon  its  dark  bosom,  and  he  sighed. 

"  Don't  mind  telling  me,  Bryan!"  she  said.  "You 
want  to  go,  don't  you?  " 

He  turned  round. 

"  God  knows  I  do!  "  he  answered.    "  I  am  dying  here!  " 

Her  heart  beat  quickly.  In  the  unlit  room  he  could  see 
her  bosom  rising  and  falling  underneath  her  thin,  thread- 
bare dress,  and  her  dark  eyes  wet  with  tears.  She  tried  to 
speak,  but  a  great  lump  was  in  her  throat. 

He  had  more  to  say  now  that  the  ice  was  broken. 

"lam  only  a  wretched,  miserable  burden  to  you  here, 
Myra!  If  only  I  could  find  the  money  to  go  home,  I  might 
live!  I  have  given  up  all  hopes  of  the  papers.  I  only  want 
to  get  away  from  this  cruel,  awful  place.  The  very  air  here 
chokes  me !  And  to  think  that  I  am  living  on  you  all  this 
time!  If  I  could  only  get  to  England,  I  could  work,  and 
send  you  out  some  money !  You've  been  a  real  brick  to  me, 
Myra!    I " 

"Stop!" 

His  flow  of  eloquence  was  suddenly  checked  by  that 
quick  staccato  cry — the  cry  of  a  woman  whose  heart-strings 
are  being  roughly  handled.  He  looked  up  at  her  in  sur- 
prise.   Her  face  was  convulsed  with  pain. 


THE   OFFERING   OF  A   SOUL  169 

"  I  do  not  want  money!  I  shall  not  want  it  any  more! 
Here  are  your  papers,  and  here  is  the  money  to  go  home 
with!" 

She  flung  them  upon  the  table  before  him.  He  looked  at 
them,  and  then  at  her.  In  a  dim,  vague  sort  of  way  he 
began  to  understand.  He  leaned  on  the  back  of  the  chair, 
and  looked  at  her. 

"  You  are  going  to  him!  "  he  muttered  hoarsely. 

"  Well?  " 

She  flung  the  challenge  across  at  him.  Her  eyes  were 
bright  and  dry;  now  and  then  there  was  a  scarlet  glow  in 
her  cheeks. 

"  Well,  what  would  you  have  me  do?  You  are  going 
away!  It  doesn't  much  matter,  does  it?  There  are  the 
papers  for  which  you  came  here,  and  there  is  money  suffi- 
cient to  take  you  home!  " 

He  could  not  keep  the  light  from  his  eyes  as  he  looked  at 
them,  but  as  yet  he  had  not  taken  them  up.  His  face  was 
troubled.  He  had  an  uneasy  feeling  in  his  heart.  He  was 
irresolute !  He  did  not  understand.  He  was  not  capable  of 
it !  Between  him  and  her  was  fixed  a  mighty  gulf.  She,  the 
offspring  of  a  western  lumberman  who  had  married  the 
daughter  of  a  small  farmer,  the  pioneers  of  a  new  race  upon 
a  new  soil,  had  inherited  in  some  mysterious  way  a  leaven  of 
all  that  is  sweetest  and  greatest  and  best  in  womankind. 
She  had  given  her  love  to  this  man,  had  loved  him  to  the 
extent  of  a  glorious  self-immolation  beyond  any  possible 
understanding  of  his.  Far  below  on  the  plane  of  humanity, 
he  looked  up  at  her,  uneasy,  yet  wholly  incapable  of  ap- 
preciating this  sacrifice  of  herself  which  she  was  offering  to 
him.  With  the  eyes  that  she  saw,  he  could  not  see,  and  the 
pains  which  rent  her  heart,  he  could  not  suffer.  In  the  days 
to  come,  before  he  and  she  should  meet  again  in  a  larger 
world,  some  knowledge  of  these  things  had  dawned  upon 


170  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

him.  There  were  days  when  the  memory  of  these  few 
moments  in  the  little  dark  chamber  high  up  amongst  the 
slums  of  San  Francisco  was  an  exquisite  torture  to  him  — 
when  her  calm,  white  face  seemed  to  haunt  him  like  an 
everlasting  reproach,  and  the  shame  of  her  sacrifice  sank 
into  his  very  soul.  But  that  was  when  he  too  had  been 
quickened  into  a  larger  life  and  understanding,  when  he 
had  become  a  man  of  his  generation,  a  creature  of  Nature's 
great  system  of  education.  To-night,  he  realized  none  of 
these  things. 

"  I  do  not  quite  understand!  "  he  said.  "  Only  a  few 
days  ago,  you  shuddered  at  the  mention  of  this  man's 
name!  " 

She  laughed.  The  echoes  of  that  laugh,  too,  lingered 
with  him.  There  were  days  to  come  when  the  memory  of 
it  should  be  like  a  keen  torture. 

"  Ah,  that  was  when  you  were  ill  and  helpless  —  before 
you  had  become  homesick !  I  have  changed !  Amies  Rutten 
is  well  enough,  and  he  has  the  wealth  of  a  prince !  Go  and 
get  your  ticket  before  the  office  closes!  " 

She  held  out  a  handful  of  the  notes.    Still  he  hesitated. 

"  I  don't  like  touching  his  money!  "  he  muttered. 

"  It  is  not  his!  "  she  answered.    "  It  is  mine!  " 

He  raised  his  hand,  and  their  fingers  touched  for  a 
moment  as  he  took  the  notes.  Hers  were  deathly  cold,  but 
he  did  not  seem  to  notice.  He  left  her,  and  hurried  out 
without  a  word. 

He  walked  swiftly  through  the  brilliantly-lit  streets  on 
his  way  to  the  ticket-office.  His  weakness  was  all  forgotten ! 
He  had  money  in  his  hand,  and  the  papers  which  had  been 
the  desire  of  his  life,  in  his  pocket.  His  cheeks  were  flushed 
with  joy,  and  his  eyes  were  bright.  And  in  that  little  lone 
room  high  up  above  the  roar  of  the  great  city,  a  woman  lay, 
face  downwards  upon  the  floor,  dry-eyed,  but  moaning 


THE   OFFERING   OF  A   SOUL  171 

softly  like  some  beautiful  wild  creature  whose  life-blood  is 
ebbing  slowly  away. 

He  took  a  ticket  to  New  York,  and  booked  a  Cunard 
passage  to  Liverpool  at  the  same  office.  Then  he  bought 
food  and  wine  —  Myra  and  he  should  have  their  last  little 
supper  together!  But,  when  he  got  back,  the  little  room 
where  they  had  lived  together  was  empty.    She  had  gone! 


BOOK  II 
CHAPTER   I 

IN  THE   OLD   WORLD 

The  afternoon  sun  was  streaming  through  the  latticed 
window  of  an  old-fashioned  West  of  England  farmhouse, 
throwing  strange  gleams  of  light  into  the  quaint  old  corners, 
and  across  the  red-tiled  floor. 

Leaning  back  in  a  chintz-covered  old  easy-chair  drawn 
out  from  the  corner  was  Bryan.  His  cap  and  stick  were 
upon  the  table,  and  his  hair  was  rough  and  wind-tossed. 
He  had  just  come  in  from  a  long  walk. 

A  little  gray-haired  woman  —  the  picture  of  neat  old  age 
—  came  across  the  floor  to  him  from  the  other  end  of  the 
room.  She  stopped  when  she  saw  the  dark  cloud  upon  his 
face,  and  the  weary  look  in  his  eyes. 

"  You're  over-tired,  sir!"  she  said  reproachfully. 
"  You'll  have  some  tea,  won't  you?  " 

Bryan  looked  up  suddenly.  He  had  been  deep  in 
thought. 

"  Ay,  Mrs.  Holmes,  I  will!  "  he  answered.  "  Some  tea, 
and  something  to  eat.    I'm  starved!  " 

"  Why,  surely,  sir,  and  that  you  shall!  "  she  exclaimed. 
"Jane!    Jane!" 

She  bustled  away  in  search  of  her  little  domestic.    Just 

172 


IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  173 

as  she  turned  her  back,  a  shadow  darkened  the  window  for 
a  moment,  and  immediately  afterwards  there  was  a  sharp 
tapping  at  the  door.    Bryan  looked  round. 

"  Open  the  door,  Mrs.  Holmes! "  he  said.  "  Some  one 
knocking!  " 

"  It'll  be  the  baker! "  she  remarked,  hurrying  back  and 
raising  the  latch.  "  Sakes  alive!  it's  my  Lady!"  she 
exclaimed,  in  an  altogether  different  key.  "  Do  walk  in, 
my  Lady  Helen !  You'll  take  a  chair !  Deary  me,  I'm  right 
glad  to  see  you  looking  so  fine  and  well!    Deary  me !  " 

A  tall,  slim  girl  dressed  in  a  plain  riding-habit,  and  holding 
her  whip  and  skirts  in  her  left  hand,  stepped  lightly  in. 

"  I'll  take  something  more  than  a  chair,  Mrs.  Holmes!  " 
she  said,  with  a  little  laugh.  "  I  want  a  cup  of  your  very 
best  tea,  and  some  bread  and  butter!  I'm  positively 
starved!  John  was  to  have  met  me  at  Welby  Gorse  with 
my  sandwich-case,  but  I  missed  him  somehow,  and  Fve 
had  nothing  all  day!    Oh!  " 

She  had  suddenly  seen  Bryan.  He  rose  up  from  his  seat 
in  the  chimney-corner,  and  stood  upright,  so  that  his  head 
nearly  touched  the  old  beam  which  crossed  the  ceiling.  Her 
eyes  rested  at  first  upon  him  carelessly  —  then  with  a  faint 
expression  of  surprise.  She  stood  quite  still,  tapping  her 
skirts  with  her  whip,  and  with  a  slight  frown  upon  her  clear 
white  forehead.  As  for  him,  a  deep  flush  had  stolen  through 
the  bronze  sunburn  of  his  cheeks,  mounting  even  to  his 
brow.  There  was  a  new  look  in  his  face,  and  a  new  fire  in 
his  eyes. 

Mrs.  Holmes  hastened  to  explain  his  presence. 

"  It's  a  gentleman  lodging  with  me  for  a  few  days,  my 
Lady!"  she  said  apologetically.  "  I'll  see  for  the  tea! 
You'll  take  a  chair!  " 

She  bustled  away  into  the  back  regions.  Bryan  mechan- 
ically wheeled  out  his  chair,  and  placed  it  for  her. 


174  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

"  So  you  have  come  back  again!  "  she  remarked,  with 
a  little  smile.  "  Why,  I  thought  that  you  had  gone  to  the 
Cape,  or  Australia,  or  somewhere,  to  make  your  fortune! 
You  have  soon  tired  of  wandering!  " 

"  I'm  very  tired  of  it!  "  he  answered.  "  I  am  glad  to  be 
back  in  England  again!  " 

She  took  his  chair,  and  laid  her  whip  upon  the  table  by 
the  side  of  his  stick.  He  remained  standing  before  her. 
From  the  kitchen  behind  came  the  pleasant  rattle  of  cups 
and  saucers,  and  the  hissing  of  a  kettle.  Neither  of  them 
spoke  for  several  moments.  A  faint  ray  of  winter  sunlight 
was  glancing  upon  the  oak  table,  and  upon  her  fair  hair, 
resolutely  brushed  back,  but  waving  a  little  round  the 
temples.  She  leaned  back  and  watched  him,  smoothing  out 
her  gloves  thoughtfully. 

"Well,  tell  me  all  about  it!"  she  said  at  length. 
"  Where  have  you  been?  " 

"  In  California  and  San  Francisco,  most  of  the  time!  " 
he  answered.    "  Digging  for  gold,  amongst  other  things!  " 

"  Were  you  successful?  "  she  asked. 

"  In  a  measure !  I  was  there  on  a  different  sort  of  search, 
too.    I  had  a  rough  time  of  it  altogether !  " 

She  looked  at  him  critically. 

"Ah!  a  search  for  a  name  and  a  fortune,  wasn't  it?  I 
remember  your  telling  me  something  about  it,  don't  I? 
Well,  did  you  find  them?  " 

"  I  think  so!  "  he  answered  slowly.  "  One  of  them,  at 
any  rate! " 

A  peculiar  gravity  in  his  tone  attracted  her.  She  raised 
her  eyes  to  his  face  again,  and  looked  at  him  with  a  quiet, 
supercilious  interest. 

"  Really,  how  interesting!    Might  one  inquire  which?  " 

"No;  you  mayn't!"  he  answered  roughly.  "Don't 
make  me  mad,  Lady  Helen!   When  you  look  at  me  like 


IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  175 

that,  I  don't  feel  quite  myself.  What  have  I  done  that  you 
should  despise  me  so?  " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  leaned  back  in  the  chair, 
half-closing  her  eyes. 

"  Dear  me!  "  she  said  softly.  "  I  did  hope  that  you  had 
forgotten  those  terrible  heroics  of  yours!  " 

His  chest  heaved,  and  there  was  a  strange  bright  light  in 
his  eyes. 

"  Forgotten!  I  have  forgotten  nothing  —  nothing,  curse 
it! "  he  muttered  under  his  breath.  "  I  have  been  a  rank 
utter  fool  from  the  day  I  flung  myself  upon  your  horses; 
and  you  deigned  to  thank  me  with  a  smile.  God!  how  the 
memory  of  that  day  has  clung  to  me!  I  thought  of  it  at 
night,  on  the  steamer,  when  the  deep  silence  and  the  lone- 
liness of  the  sea  brought  it  all  back,  and  even  the  rushing 
winds  seemed  to  speak  to  me  with  your  voice !  And  in  the 
darkness,  when  I  sat  and  smoked  my  pipe  outside  my  hut 
on  the  banks  of  the  Blue  River,  there  was  something  about 
the  scent  of  the  shrubs  there  which  reminded  me  of  the 
perfume  of  your  clothes.  Once  I  was  as  near  death  as  a  man 
can  come  —  so  near  that  my  eyes  were  closed,  and  the 
death  burr  was  in  my  ears;  I  was  thinking  of  you  then!  I 
couldn't  keep  you  out  of  my  thoughts !  I  never  can !  God 
knows  I  try !  Oh,  you  make  me  wish  that  I  could  hate  you 
when  I  see  you  looking  as  you  do  now,  as  calm,  and  proud, 
and  disdainful  as  though  the  breaking  of  a  man's  heart 
were  nothing  to  you!  " 

"  The  breaking  of  some  men's  hearts,  if  they  really  possess 
such  a  thing,  would  be  a  great  deal  to  me  in  some  cases," 
she  said,  looking  at  him  steadfastly.  "  But  you  must  really 
excuse  me  if  I  wonder  sometimes  whether  you  quite  realize 
to  whom  you  are  talking!  " 

He  laughed  hoarsely.  "Ay,  I  know!  You  are  Lady 
Helen  Wessemer,  niece  and  ward  of  the  Earl  of  Wessemer, 


176     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

and  I  am  —  well,  nobody!  That's  so!  I  know  it  well 
enough,  but  there  are  times  when  I  can  only  remember  that 
I  am  a  man,  and  you  are  a  woman." 

"  You  are  certainly  the  boldest  man  I  ever  met!  "  she 
said,  with  a  slight  flush  in  her  cheeks.  "  I  can  see  that  you 
are  excited,  and  scarcely  accountable  for  what  you  are  say- 
ing, or  I  should  take  care  not  to  see  you  or  speak  to  you 
again !  I  don't  want  to  do  that,  if  only  you  would  control 
yourself,  and  be  reasonable.  It  would  be  so  much  better! 
Now,  listen!  Four  or  five  years  ago,  you  saved  my  life  — 
saved  it  bravely,  too !  What  were  you  then?  Try  and  recall 
yourself!  You  were  the  terror  of  the  whole  village.  A 
notorious  poacher,  a  frequenter  of  public-houses,  ill- 
dressed  and  ill-mannered,  and  associated  only  with  the 
worst  characters  about  the  place!  Why  Lord  Wessemer 
passed  over  all  your  misdeeds,  and  persistently  refused  to 
have  you  punished,  I  cannot  imagine ;  but  it  was  so !  You 
were  a  completely  lawless  creature ;  you  earned  no  money ; 
you  never  worked ;  you  slept  out  of  doors  —  in  short,  you 
were  half  a  wild  animal!  " 

"  Exactly!" 

She  leaned  forward  to  the  fire,  and  held  her  fingers  to  the 
blaze  for  a  few  moments.  Then  she  continued,  keeping  her 
eyes  steadily  fixed  upon  him. 

"  Well,  after  my  accident  and  your  bravery,  I  naturally 
felt  some  anxiety  to  serve  you;  and  I  gave  you  what  you 
most  needed  —  good  advice.  It  pleased  you  to  follow  it! 
What  I  suggested,  you  did.  You  commenced  to  lead  a  de- 
cent life,  and,  to  my  surprise,  I  found  that  you  were  very 
fairly  educated.  In  a  very  few  months  you  were  vastly 
improved.  You  had  a  very  fair  amount  of  money  for  your 
position,  and  Lord  Wessemer  would  have  let  you  have  any 
of  his  farms  rent-free.  It  was  then  that  your  gratitude  to 
me  commenced  to  take  —  an  objectionable  form.     You 


IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  177 

followed  me  about,  you  glared  at  me  if  you  saw  me  at  any 
time  with  the  men  who  were  the  natural  companions  of  my 
position  —  in  short,  you  behaved  like  a  thorough  idiot.  You 
began  to  talk  wildly,  too,  of  some  possible  good  fortune 
which  might  happen  to  you,  and,  in  short,  you  wearied  me 
horribly.  At  last  you  went  away,  and  don't  feel  hurt  if  I 
say  it  was  a  great  relief.  You  see  you  have  forced  me  to  be 
very  frank!  I  want  to  continue  to  be  your  friend,  but  if  I 
do,  you  must  remember  this :  that  I  am  Lady  Helen  Wesse- 
mer,  and  you  are  —  yourself.  You  understand !  Don't, 
please,  look  so  tragical !  Is  Mrs.  Holmes  ever  going  to  bring 
that  tea,  I  wonder!  " 

"  One  moment!  " 

He  was  standing  over  her,  stern  and  pale.  She  half  rose, 
but  sat  down  again.  There  was  a  certain  strength  in  the 
man  —  in  his  resolute  face  and  set  brows  —  which  it  was 
hard  to  resist. 

"  Suppose  for  one  moment,  that  I  was  a  gentleman,  and 
rich  —  richer  even  than  you !    What  then?  " 

"Nothing!" 

"  You  mean " 

"  I  mean  that  you  would  be  to  me  then  —  what  you  are 
now!"  she  interrupted.  "Don't  you  understand?  You 
have  no  real  education,  no  culture!  You  and  I  dwell  in 
different  worlds !  You  force  me  to  tell  you  this !  I  am  sorry 
to  hurt  you,  but  nothing  in  this  world  could  make  —  what 
you  suggest  possible!  " 

He  clenched  his  fists  tightly  together,  and  drew  himself 
up  so  that  his  head  touched  the  roof.  His  face  was  white 
and  desperate,  and  his  eyes  glowed  like  pieces  of  live  coal. 
She  shrank  back  in  her  chair,  and  looked  at  him  —  afraid. 

"It's  —  not  true!"  he  said,  in  a  tone  quite  low,  but 
vibrating  with  passion.  "  Lady  Helen,  the  time  will  come 
when  you  shall  take  back  your  words.    Look  at  me !    I'm  a 


178  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

strongman.  I'm  one  of  those  who  gets  what  he  wants!  I 
want  you  —  you  and  your  love !  And  I  shall  have  you !  I 
swear  it  before  God  —  on  my  soul!  " 
•  She  shrank  away  from  him,  for  once  speechless.  He 
caught  his  cap  and  stick  from  the  table,  and  strode  across 
the  stone  floor.  The  door  opened  and  shut.  He  was  gone ! 
"  He  is  mad !  "  she  told  herself.  "  He  must  be  out  of  his 
senses! " 


CHAPTER   II 

THE  JUDGMENT  OF  FORTUNE 

Bryan  left  the  farmyard  by  the  gate  in  the  ordinary  way, 
but  once  in  the  fields,  he  strode  along  regardless  of  foot- 
paths or  stiles,  with  the  set,  white  face  of  a  man  suddenly 
bereft  of  his  senses.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  was  utterly 
without  knowledge  of  where  he  was  going  to,  but  he  kept 
his  face  resolutely  turned  towards  the  setting  sun,  and  in 
about  half  an  hour  he  had  reached  a  slight  elevation  of  the 
country  from  which  a  lonely  tract  of  moorland  rolled  away 
to  the  horizon.  Here  he  paused,  and  stood  with  tightly- 
clenched  hands,  gazing  away  at  the  far-distant  line  where 
the  winter's  sun  seemed  sinking  into  the  bosom  of  the  earth. 
For  a  moment  his  face  worked  spasmodically.  Then  he 
commenced  to  mutter  to  himself,  his  voice  deep  and  low, 
scarcely  rising  above  a  whisper. 

"  Curse  her!  How  she  scorns  me  —  me,  the  vagabond 
poacher,  the  country  yokel!  No  education,  no  —  what  was 
that  word  she  used?  —  no  culture !  My  God !  how  beauti- 
ful she  is  —  so  fair  and  stately  and  proud !  She  is  like  a 
princess.  There  is  not  another  woman  in  the  world  like  her ! 
When  she  looks  at  me,  I  am  on  fire !   When  she  scoffs  at  me, 

I  go  mad!    Lord!  what    a  fool  I  am!   What  a  d d 

fool!" 

He  was  standing  near  a  rude  gray  stone  wall.     He 

179 


180  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

stepped  forward  and  leaned  upon  it,  gazing  steadfastly  at 
the  long  line  of  yellow  light  where  the  sun  had  gone  down. 
A  damp,  gray  twilight  was  commencing  to  fall,  and  the  land- 
scape faded  away  almost  before  his  eyes.  But  he  did  not 
move;  he  was  thinking.  Presently  he  began  to  mutter  to 
himself  again.  He  was  the  only  living  creature  in  the  midst 
of  a  great  solitude,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  let  his  fiery,  dis- 
jointed thoughts  escape  him. 

"  A  boor!  I  was  always  a  boor  to  her!  She  was  always 
an  aristocrat,  even  before  she  put  on  the  silks  and  satins  of 
young  ladyhood.  God!  how  beautiful  she  is!  Curse  her 
beauty!  Curse  her  pride!  How  her  bitter  words  send  the 
hot  blood  racing  through  my  veins  to  my  heart!  Oh,  my 
God!  if  it  were  possible  —  if  it  were  only  possible  to  hold 
her  in  my  arms  but  for  a  little  while  —  and  die !  Ay,  it 
would  be  worth  dying  for!  " 

The  light  of  his  great  desire  gleamed  out  of  his  eyes,  lit 
up  his  bronzed  face,  and  even  showed  itself  in  that  sudden 
yearning  movement,  and  outstretching  of  his  hands  towards 
the  gray  rolling  mists  amongst  which,  in  fancy,  he  had  seen 
for  a  moment,  the  face  of  this  fair,  proud  girl.  Perhaps  at 
that  moment,  more  than  at  any  previous  time  in  his  life,  he 
tasted  alike  the  bitterest  and  the  sweetest  depths  of  his 
passion.  It  had  come  to  him  on  the  threshold  of  manhood, 
had  become  an  indissoluble  part  of  his  sensations,  a  part  of 
the  man  himself.  He  was  the  boor  who  loved  a  princess. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  he  could  no  more  destroy  that  love 
than  he  could  destroy  himself.  They  were  one  and  the 
same,  one  flesh  and  one  blood,  one  body  and  one  soul! 

Yet,  from  the  very  days  of  its  birth,  there  had  been  a 
curious  impersonality  about  his  worship.  She  had  filled 
every  dream  his  mind  had  ever  conceived,  her  image  had 
been  painted  in  upon  the  canvas  of  his  imagination  with 
wonderfully  glowing  colours.    She  was  to  him  the  embodi- 


THE   JUDGMENT   OF   FORTUNE  181 

ment  of  all  that  was  sweet,  and  pure,  and  beautiful  in 
womankind.  And  yet  it  had  all  been  in  a  curious  far-off 
way.  He  had  never  before  dared  to  bring  his  image  of  her 
down  to  the  physical  world,  to  imagine  what  it  would  be  like 
to  hold  her  hand,  to  see  her  eyes  look  upon  him  kindly,  to 
watch  her  lips  smile  at  him,  to  assume  some  sort  of  personal 
proprietorship  over  her.  But  to-night  something  had  lit 
the  torch.  It  may  have  been  his  own  sense  of  inward  de- 
velopment, of  emergence  from  the  village  boor  to  manhood 
and  responsibility,  the  sense  of  having  been  brought  nearer 
to  her,  at  any  rate  so  far  as  material  circumstances  and 
position  can  be  considered.  Or  it  may  have  been  a  dull, 
sickening  fear  which  had  shot  through  him  when  he  had 
seen  the  added  womanliness  of  her  stature  and  movements, 
that  some  other  man  of  her  own  rank  might  love  her,  and 
seek  to  break  through  the  stately  and  dainty  exclusiveness 
of  her  ripening  maidenhood.  The  fear  had  stung  him  into  a 
passionate  desire  for  action,  had  given  him  a  desperate 
courage  with  which  to  throw  aside  the  dreamer,  and  boldly 
challenge  his  fate.  His  mind  was  full  of  half-formed  re- 
solves, of  a  multitude  of  daring  plans,  as  he  leaned  over  the 
wall  and  gazed  across  the  shadowy  landscape.  One  by  one 
they  became  knitted  into  the  strong  purpose  of  the  man. 
The  hours  that  he  spent  then,  in  the  gray,  misty  twilight, 
formed  an  era  in  his  life.  They  became  history  with  him. 
From  that  night  a  beautiful  but  impersonal  dream  was 
shattered,  and  a  man's  passion  was  born. 

It  was  late  when  he  got  back  to  the  farmhouse  where  he 
was  staying.  On  the  table  was  his  supper  and  a  letter.  He 
looked  at  it  carelessly  at  first,  then  with  a  quick  start  of 
surprise.  He  tore  it  open,  and  drew  the  lamp  closer  as  he 
read: 


182  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT  SNARE 

"  The  Blue  River  Diggings, 
,  "  Oct.  18th. 

"  How  are  you,  pard?  Guess  you're  snug  in  the  old 
country  by  now.  There  was  a  hell  of  a  row  here,  after  you 
left.  Dan  Cooper,  he  hurried  up  and  was  on  your  track  as 
soon  as  it  got  about  as  you  was  gone,  and  took  that  skeery- 
faced  kid,  Skein,  along.  They  ain't  been  heerd  on  since. 
I  reckon  you  and  the  gel  —  she'd  plenty  of  pluck,  that  gel 
had  —  would  about  square  them  two,  if  so  happened  as  they 
catched  you  up ! 

"  There  has  been  a  wonderful  boom  here,  and  you  and  me 
is  in  it,  you  bet !  I  dare  say  you've  read  all  about  it  in  the 
papers.  I  took  on  help  after  you  went,  and  in  three  days 
we  struck  such  a  vein  as  ain't  been  heard  on  in  these  parts, 
I  can  tell  you!  We  just  shovelled  out  the  gold  like  dirt. 
Lord!  you  should  have  been  there  to  see  the  chaps  all 
around,  how  mad  they  did  get!  We  worked  by  daytime 
and  by  lantern-light,  and  we  ain't  got  to  the  end  of  it  yet. 
I  reckon  I've  sent  in  to  a  broker  at  'Frisco  about  twenty- 
eight  thousand  dollars'  worth,  and  I've  got  as  much  more 
safe  hid,  waiting  for  the  expressman.  We're  scooping  it  out 
every  day.  Besides  this,  I've  bought  and  paid  for  four  of 
the  likeliest  claims,  and  the  store  which  I'm  running  myself, 
and  making  a  pile  at.  I've  invested  a  good  bit  in  the  store, 
for  the  diggings  is  three  times  as  large  as  they  were,  and  as 
the  news  of  the  boom  spreads,  all  the  greenhorns  in  'Frisco 
'11  be  here.  The  gold  '11  be  about  gone,  but  they  '11  want 
feeding.  The  profit  from  the  store  you  and  me  divides,  and 
also  of  course  the  gold,  less  all  the  expenses  of  running  the 
show,  and  the  help  on  the  claim,  which  I  reckon  is  your 
look-out.  That's  square,  ain't  it?  Now  I  want  a  straight 
word  with  you.  When  you  and  me  started  pards,  share  and 
share  alike,  you  planked  down  more  coin  than  me,  and  you 
worked  harder,  for  you're  a  powerful  strong  man.    Now  it's 


THE  JUDGMENT  OF  FORTUNE     183 

the  result  of  your  labour  and  your  coin  as  is  turning  up 
trumps,  and  what  I  want  to  say  is,  that  we  share  up  level 
all  the  profits  from  the  claim  and  store,  and  if  you  says  any- 
thing different,  why,  I  chucks  half  into  the  Blue  River,  for 

I'll  be if  I  touch  it  !  I'm  most  a  lone  man,  and  what 

I  shall  do  with  my  pile  I  don't  know!  There  ain't  no  call 
for  you  to  come  back.  I've  got  some  safe  help,  and  a  pal  or 
two  as  I  can  trust,  and  I'm  doing  a  big  thing !  You'll  find 
twenty  thousand  dollars  to  your  call  at  a  chap's  called 
Baring  in  London,  when  you  like  to  go  for  it.  The  next 
draw  will  be  a  sight  larger,  but  I've  spent  a  good  bit  in 
buying  claims,  and  stocking  the  store. 

"  P.  S.  —  This  has  been  an  almighty  day.  The  express- 
man just  arrived.  Am  sending  metal  which  I  reckon  will 
figger  out  at  something  like  a  hundred  thousand  dollars. 
You  and  me  is  in  luck,  Bryan. 

"  From  your  affect  pard, 

"  Pete." 

The  letter  fluttered  down  from  Bryan's  fingers,  and  he 
stood  for  a  moment  perfectly  still.  His  brain  was  in  a 
turmoil — this  thing  that  had  happened  was  almost  too  great 
to  grasp.  Then  a  look  of  triumph  flashed  in  his  eyes.  His 
heart  leaped  up.  Here  were  the  muscles  and  the  sinews  for 
his  struggle ;  here  was  the  weapon  with  which  to  carve  his 
way  upwards.  He  stretched  up  his  hands  to  the  ceiling, 
and  laughed  out  loud,  waking  a  thousand  echoes  amongst 
the  old  rafters  and  beams. 

"Mine!"  he  cried  passionately.  "It  is  the  judgment 
of  fortune!    I  shall  win!  " 

Just  once  there  glided  like  a  ghost  amongst  his  glowing 
thoughts  and  dreams,  the  image  of  a  dark,  sorrowing  face, 
and  his  heart  was  thrilled  for  a  moment  with  the  low  sweet 
voice  of  the  woman  who  had  given  her  soul  to  set  him  free. 


184  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

But  he  clenched  his  teeth,  and  ground  his  heel  into  the  floor. 
It  was  a  thing  past  for  ever  —  a  black  spot  upon  his  life 
which  he  could  never  cleanse.  He  had  sworn  to  himself  to 
forget  it;  to  live  as  though  those  days  had  never  been! 
Nothing  could  alter  them,  nothing  could  ever  efface  his 
degradation.  He  could  do  but  one  thing,  and  that  he  would 
do  —  forget !  Between  his  past  and  his  future  there  lay 
stretched  a  mighty  gulf.  Not  even  with  memory  would  he 
ever  suffer  it  to  be  bridged  over.  He  had  sworn  it  at  mid- 
night on  the  great  steamer  as  it  ploughed  its  way  through 
the  rushing  waters  of  the  Atlantic;  and  that  night,  in  the 
little  farmhouse,  he  looked  through  the  lattice  window  upon 
the  moonlit  night,  and  renewed  his  oath.  The  bitterness 
of  the  past  should  have  no  power  to  poison  the  future. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  THRESHOLD   OF  A  NEW  LIFE 

Two  days  later  Bryan  found  himself  in  London.  He 
arrived  at  Waterloo  about  midday,  and  was  driven  straight 
to  one  of  the  great  hotels  in  Northumberland  Avenue.  Here 
he  engaged  a  room,  and  sallying  out  again,  turned  west- 
wards. 

He  had  commenced  life  upon  a  new  principle,  or  rather 
he  was  commencing  a  new  life.  For  the  first  time  he  had 
travelled  first-class,  for  the  first  time  he  was  staying  of  his 
own  choice  in  a  fashionable  hotel.  He  walked  slowly  down 
Pall  Mall,  Piccadilly,  and  Bond  Street,  noting  all  the  men 
he  met  with  new  and  attentive  eyes.  At  the  corner  of  Con- 
duit Street,  a  brougham  and  pair  of  horses  pulled  up  almost 
by  his  side,  and  its  occupants,  two  men,  got  out,  crossed 
the  pavement,  and  entered  a  tailor's  shop.  Bryan  hesitated 
for  a  moment;  then  he  quietly  followed  them  in. 

His  appearance  in  somewhat  shabby  and  travel-stained 
clothes  was  a  little  singular  in  a  fashionable  part  of  London, 
but  he  carried  himself  well,  and  had  an  air  of  resolution, 
almost  of  dignity,  which  inspired  a  certain  amount  of  re- 
spect. The  man  who  came  noiselessly  across  the  thickly- 
carpeted  room,  with  its  swing-glasses  and  piles  of  neatly- 
folded  cloth  upon  a  mahogany  counter,  looked  at  him  in 
faint  surprise  but  listened  to  what  he  had  to  say  civilly. 

185 


186  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

"  I've  just  come  home  from  California!"  Bryan  said 
simply.  "  I  have  plenty  of  money,  and  I  want  to  be  dressed 
like  other  men.    Can  you  make  me  some  clothes  quickly?  " 

The  man  bowed. 

"  With  great  pleasure,  sir!  Do  you  require  a  complete 
outfit  for  town  and  country,  may  I  ask,  or  only  for  town 
wear?  " 

Bryan  considered  for  a  moment.  "  First  of  all,  I  want 
one  of  those  long  black  coats." 

"  Frock-coats,  sir!  " 

"  Yes,  and  trousers  to  go  with  it  —  a  couple  of  pairs. 
Then  I  want  an  evening  suit,  and  some  tweed  clothes  and 
breeches  for  the  country.  I  should  like  the  frock-coat 
first!" 

"  Will  you  choose  the  material,  sir?  " 

Bryan  shook  his  head. 

"  I  leave  it  to  you!   You  had  better  take  my  measure!  " 

It  was  a  task  which  occupied  some  little  time.  When  it 
was  over,  Bryan  drew  a  sigh  of  relief.  He  had  been  used 
to  wearing  ready-made  clothes. 

"  When  shall  I  call  again?  "  he  asked. 

"  To-morrow  afternoon,  sir,  we  will  try  on  the  coat,  as  I 
presume  you  wish  to  wear  it  in  town!  " 

Bryan  nodded,  and  walked  out.  At  the  corner  of  Bond 
Street  he  went  into  Scott's  and  bought  a  silk  hat  which  he 
had  sent  to  the  hotel.  A  little  further  on,  he  went  into  a 
hosier's,  and  bought  shirts,  collars,  ties,  and  gloves  of  the 
latest  fashion.  Then  he  paid  Truefitt's  a  visit,  had  his  hair 
cut,  and  his  beard  trimmed. 

He  lunched  at  a  fashionable  restaurant,  drinking  wine 
instead  of  beer,  and  watching  the  people  closely.  After- 
wards he  bought  some  books,  and  spent  a  good  part  of  the 
afternoon  in  the  National  Gallery.  In  the  evening  he  went 
to  the  Lyceum. 


THE   THRESHOLD   OF  A   NEW   LIFE      187 

For  three  days  he  kept  quiet,  reading  and  visiting  picture 
galleries  most  of  the  time,  and  going  to  a  fresh  theatre  each 
evening.  On  the  fourth,  his  clothes  arrived,  and,  with  a 
laugh  which  had  almost  a  nervous  tremor  in  it,  he  undid  the 
parcel,  and  arrayed  himself  from  head  to  foot  in  his  new 
attire.  The  metamorphosis  surprised  even  himself.  He 
looked  at  his  reflection  in  the  glass  with  a  certain  vague 
displeasure.  He  was  annoyed  to  believe  that  clothes  could 
make  such  a  difference.  He  was  now  to  all  outward  ap- 
pearance a  gentleman,  as  well  turned  out,  and  as  much  at 
ease  in  his  clothes  as  any  of  the  men  whom  he  had  met  and 
studied  in  the  West  End. 

It  was  a  fine  morning,  and  he  walked  in  the  Park.  On 
his  way  he  bought  himself  a  carnation,  and,  a  few  minutes 
afterwards,  stopping  to  look  at  his  reflection  in  a  large  plate- 
glass  window,  he  burst  out  laughing.  The  thing  seemed  so 
comical  to  him,  so  unreal.  It  was  hard  indeed  to  believe 
that  the  tall  and  perfectly  dressed  man  whose  image  he  saw 
could  be  the  boor  who  commenced  life  as  a  poaching  vaga- 
bond. 

The  Park  was  full,  and,  strangely  enough,  Bryan  had 
scarcely  walked  a  hundred  yards  when  he  was  able  to  test 
his  new  personality.  A  barouche  and  pair  of  horses  were 
drawn  up  close  to  the  railings,  and  a  girl,  sitting  by  the  side 
of  a  stately  gray-haired  old  lady,  was  talking  to  several 
men  who  stood  around  the  carriage  door.  Bryan  felt  his 
heart  give  a  great  thump,  but  he  bit  his  lip  savagely  and 
kept  his  face  turned  upon  her.  She  met  his  gaze  quite 
frankly,  and  with  perfect  unconcern,  and  bowed  a  little 
doubtfully  as  he  raised  his  hat.  Then  their  eyes  seemed  to 
meet,  and  he  distinctly  saw  her  start,  and  a  slight  colour 
flush  her  cheeks.  He  passed  on,  walking  with  just  the  same 
careless  dignity,  borne  of  his  great  strength,  as  when  he  had 
sauntered  barefooted  around  his  claim  on  the  Blue  River, 


188     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

with  his  spade  over  his  shoulder;  and,  of  course,  he  did  not 
look  behind.  When  he  returned  in  about  ten  minutes,  the 
carriage  was  gone,  and  he  did  not  see  it  again.  He  walked 
the  Row  from  end  to  end,  eagerly  watching  the  stream  of 
vehicles.  It  was  in  vain.  He  saw  nothing  more  of  the 
barouche  with  the  brown  liveries. 

"  She  would  think  that  I  was  mad!  "  he  said  to  himself, 
with  a  short,  dry  laugh,  as  he  turned  homewards.  "  Per- 
haps I  am!" 

For  six  more  days  Bryan  remained  in  London.  He  spent 
most  of  his  time  in  what  is  called  the  West  End,  and  visited 
every  picture  gallery  that  was  open.  He  made  a  good  many 
purchases,  and  walked  every  day  in  the  Park,  where  his 
unusual  height  and  tawny,  handsome  beard  provoked  a 
number  of  languid  inquiries  as  to  his  identity,  and  awakened 
some  amount  of  curiosity  in  the  minds  of  certain  society 
journalists. 

Above  all,  he  frequented  places  where  he  heard  people 
talk,  and  carefully  noted  down  in  his  memory  the  manner 
and  form  of  their  conversation.  Night  after  night  he  sat 
in  the  stalls  of  one  of  the  more  popular  theatres,  inwardly 
chafing  at  the  restraint  of  a  high  collar,  and  the  tightness 
of  his  dress  clothes;  but  listening  to  everything  with  a  grim 
and  serious  intentness. 

These  were  days  of  purgatory  to  him,  but  he  went 
through  it  all  with  a  stubborn  and  dogged  resolution.  On 
the  seventh  day  he  returned  to  Westshire. 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE  SHADOW  OF  A  MEMORY 

"  A  gentleman  wishes  to  see  you,  sir!  " 

The  Rev.  Raymond  Bettesford  put  down  his  pen,  and 
glanced  at  the  card  which  the  trim  little  maidservant  had 
laid  before  him.  He  rose  to  his  feet  at  once,  and  regarded 
the  tall  figure  of  his  visitor  with  some  surprise. 

"  Mr.  Bryan  Bryan!  "  he  said  courteously.  "  Our  new 
neighbour  at  the  Old  Hall,  I  believe !   How  do  you  do?  " 

He  held  out  his  hand,  and  Bryan  gave  it  a  grip  which 
made  him  wince. 

"  I  was  proposing  to  call  upon  you  this  week,"  Mr. 
Bettesford  continued,  "  but,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  didn't 
know  that  you  had  taken  up  your  quarters  at  the  Hall  yet. 
When  did  you  arrive?  " 

"  Only  yesterday!"  Bryan  answered,  taking  the  chair 
which  the  other  had  drawn  out  for  him.  "  I've  been  in 
London  for  a  week  or  so,  looking  round.  I  wanted  to  have 
a  talk  with  you  right  away,  so  I  didn't  wait  for  you  to  come 
and  see  me.    You're  the  Vicar  here,  aren't  you?  " 

"  I  am  the  curate  in  charge!  "  Mr.  Bettesford  explained, 
a  little  stiffly.  There  was  a  certain  brusqueness  in  Bryan's 
manner  which  did  not  seem  quite  in  keeping  with  his 
bearing  and  appearance.  "  The  Vicar  is  away  on  the  Con- 
tinent, at  present!  "  he  added. 

189 


190  THE  WORLD'S   GREAT  SNARE 

Bryan  looked  at  him  steadily.  He  was  a  small,  fair- 
haired  young  man,  with  a  shrewd  mouth  and  eyes,  but 
somewhat  worn  face.  The  inspection  was  satisfactory, 
although  he  had  expected  to  find  an  older  man. 

"Leaves  you  to  do  the  work,  eh!"  Bryan  remarked. 
"  Well,  here's  what  I  came  about.  I'm  an  ignoramus  who's 
made  money  —  there  are  plenty  of  them  about,  as  you  know 
—  and  I  want  to  improve  myself.  I  want  to  know  what 
is  best  in  books,  and  literature,  and  art.  I  am  willing  to 
study,  but  I  want  directing.  I  can  pay  for  it  —  glad  to; 
that  is  to  say,  I  should  not  expect  to  take  up  anybody's 
time  for  nothing!  "  he  added  a  little  clumsily,  noticing  a 
slight  flush  which  had  crept  over  the  other's  face.  Bryan 
was  quick  at  noticing  things  of  that  sort.  He  was  a  sensi- 
tive man  himself. 

"I  —  I  really  don't  know  what  to  say,  Mr.  Bryan,"  was 
the  somewhat  doubtful  answer.  "  I  have  had  no  experi- 
ence in  teaching  —  and  I'm  not  sure  that  I  should  be  com- 
petent to  direct  you  in  the  manner  you  require." 

"  I'll  take  the  risk  of  that,"  Bryan  answered  calmly. 
"  What  I  want  to  know  is  this.  Have  you  got  the  time, 
and  if  you  have,  will  you  try  it?  " 

"  I  have  plenty  of  time,  and  I  should  be  glad  to  try." 

Mr.  Bettesford  answered  frankly.  He  was  beginning  to 
appreciate  his  visitor  better,  and  even  to  like  him.  "  But 
the  question  is,  what  you  want  to  learn  —  is  it  what  I  can 
teach  you?  You  must  have  had  some  education,  for  you 
speak  —  pardon  my  remarking  it  —  quite  correctly.  What 
people  call  culture  nowadays  is  a  many-sided  thing,  and 
though  I  have  taken  my  degree,  I  am  by  no  means  a 
scholar! " 

"  I  want  you  to  teach  me  Latin  and  French,  and  to  map 
out  a  course  of  reading  for  me  in  English  literature,"  Bryan 
said.    "  I  do  not  expect  too  much.    I  have  read  a  good  deal 


THE   SHADOW   OF  A   MEMORY  191 

in  a  disconnected  way.  It  wants  welding  together.  I  don't 
want  so  much  to  take  any  regular  lessons,  if  you  can  under- 
stand me ;  I  want  to  come  to  you  and  ask  questions !  And 
about  terms!  How  many  hours  could  you  give  me  a  day?  " 

Mr.  Bettesford  considered. 

"  When  could  you  come?  "  he  asked.  "  I  mean  at  what 
time  of  the  day?  " 

"  At  any  time/'  Bryan  answered  promptly. 

"  Then  we  might  manage  two  or  three!  "  Mr.  Bettesford 
said. 

"  Thank  you!  And  will  you  tell  me  —  if  you  don't  mind 
—  what  you  think  would  be  a  fair  sum  for  me  to  pay  you?  " 
Bryan  asked  hesitatingly. 

Mr.  Bettesford  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  laughed. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  he  said.  "  How  would  a  guinea 
a  week " 

"Too  little!  Ridiculous!"  Bryan  interrupted  firmly. 
"  I  shall  ask  you  to  accept  two  guineas  a  week,  and  I  shall 
come  to-morrow  at " 


"  Oh,  at  nine  o'clock,  if  you  like,  but " 

Bryan  would  hear  nothing  further.  He  shook  hands 
with  the  curate,  and  hurried  out. 

"  I  shall  be  here  at  nine! "  he  called  out  from  the  gate. 
"  Good  afternoon!  " 

Mr.  Bettesford  turned  back  to  the  house.  Instead  of 
returning  to  his  uncompleted  sermon,  however,  he  entered 
a  long,  low  drawing-room  —  a  quaint  old  room,  with  a  huge 
window  opening  on  the  lawn,  and  many  recesses.  On  a 
couch  near  the  fire,  a  woman  was  lying. 

She  put  down  her  book  as  he  entered,  and  smiled.  Ray- 
mond Bettesford  cut  a  most  unclerical  caper,  and  then 
dragged  a  footstool  up  to  her  side. 

"  Hurrah!  "  he  exclaimed,  taking  one  of  her  thin  hands, 
and  stroking  it  while  he  talked.    "  Wonderful  news  —  won- 


192  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT  SNARE 

derful !  I've  got  a  pupil  —  two  guineas  a  week !  I  feel  as 
though  I'd  come  into  a  fortune!  Just  fancy!  Two  guineas 
a  week! " 

She  turned  a  sweet,  worn  face  towards  him,  and  her  dark 
eyes  shone  brightly  underneath  a  wealth  of  wavy  gray 
hair. 

"  Why,  Raymond,  you  must  be  joking,  surely!  "  she  ex- 
claimed. "  Where  could  you  get  a  pupil  from,  and  at  such 
terms?  " 

"  I'm  in  solemn  earnest,"  he  answered.  "  Here's  his 
card!  " 

She  took  it  and  held  it  for  a  moment  or  two  in  her  thin 
fingers.  She  repeated  it  to  herself  twice,  and  then  she  laid 
it  down,  and  half-closed  her  eyes. 

"  Two  Bryans!  "  she  remarked.  "  It  is  an  odd  name.  Is 
that  the  father's  card?  " 

"  No;  it's  his  own! "  Raymond  Bettesford  explained. 
"  He's  not  a  boy !  He's  a  man  who's  come  into  money.  He 
looks  as  though  he'd  roughed  it  a  good  deal,  but  he's  a 
splendid  fellow,  and  he  has  a  wonderful  air  of  distinction 
about  him.    You'll  be  awfully  interested  to  see  him." 

"  When  is  he  coming?  "  she  asked. 

"  At  nine  o'clock  to-morrow  morning.  Ah,  there  he 
goes !  See !  If  you  just  turn  your  head  a  little,  you'll  see 
him  through  the  side  window.  He's  just  vaulting  that  gate 
on  to  the  moor.    Jove !  he  can  jump !  " 

She  bent  forward  and  watched  Bryan's  tall  figure  with 
a  curious  strained  intentness.  Her  hand  was  pressed  to  her 
heart,  and  when  Raymond  spoke  to  her  she  did  not  hear 
him. 

As  soon  as  Bryan  was  out  of  sight,  she  leaned  back  on  the 
couch,  and  closed  her  eyes. 

"I  am  tired,  Raymond!"  she  said  wearily.  "Shall  I 
have  time  for  a  little  sleep,  I  wonder,  before  tea?  " 


THE   SHADOW   OF   A   MEMORY  193 

"  Of  course  you  will!  "  he  answered.  "  I'll  go  away  and 
tell  them  not  to  disturb  you!  " 

He  bent  down  and  kissed  her,  then  he  went  away  softly. 
But  she  did  not  sleep.  She  lay  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  fire,  and  wet  with  tears. 

"  Bryan!    Bryan!  "  she  murmured  softly.    "  Ah,  me!  " 


CHAPTER   V 

A  MEETING   ON  THE  MOOR 

"  You've  found  out  by  this  time  that  I  didn't  come  to 
this  part  of  the  world  altogether  as  a  stranger!  "  Bryan  said 
one  afternoon  to  Raymond  Bettesford. 

They  were  on  the  top  of  Lone  Barrow  Down,  the  highest 
point  of  the  moor,  swept  by  the  winds  of  sea  and  land, 
and  as  brown  as  a  berry  —  walking  across  the  open  country 
with  a  reckless  disregard  of  all  footpaths  which  was  in  itself 
a  delight  to  both  of  them.  Away  inland  was  a  rolling  stretch 
of  wild  moorland,  with  here  and  there  a  few  shaggy  cattle 
dotted  about,  and  in  the  distance  the  broad  imposing  front 
of  Wessemer  Court.  Into  their  faces  was  borne  the  spray 
from  the  gray  winter  sea,  scarcely  a  quarter  of  a  mile  dis- 
tant.   Every  now  and  then  the  roar  of  it  filled  the  air. 

Bettesford  took  off  his  clerical  hat,  and  drew  in  a  long 
breath  of  the  salt  wind  before  he  answered. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  slowly.  "  You  lived  not  far  from  here 
before  you  went  abroad,  didn't  you?  " 

"  I  did  —  and  a  pretty  character  the  people  would  give 
me,  I  expect!  "  Bryan  answered,  with  a  deep  laugh.  "  I 
was  a  vagabond  all  the  days  of  my  youth,  and  I'm  afraid 
there's  some  of  the  blood  left  in  me  still,  in  spite  of  all  your 
efforts  to  polish  me  up.    I  shall  break  out  some  day !  " 

The  Rev.  Bettesford  laughed  confidently. 

194 


A   MEETING   ON   THE   MOOR  195 

"  I'm  not  afraid/'  he  declared.  "  But  since  you've  men- 
tioned it,  old  fellow,  were  you  really  —  a  —  a  —  poacher?  " 

"  Ay,  I  should  think  that  I  was!"  Bryan  answered 
readily.  "  There  were  a  good  many  sins  laid  to  my  account 
in  those  days.  I  helped  myself  to  Lord  Wessemer's  game, 
I  drank,  I  fought,  and  I  very  seldom  worked." 

"  They  told  me  one  good  thing  of  you,  though,"  Bettes- 
ford  said.  "  John  Higginson  told  me  —  excuse  me  —  that 
you  were  a  blackguard  amongst  the  men,  but  a  gentleman 
to  all  women  and  children.    I  was  glad  to  hear  that." 

"Ah!" 

Bryan  stopped  short  and  turned  his  face  seaward.  Out 
of  the  mists  that  rode  upon  the  gray  restless  waters  a 
woman's  face  seemed  to  have  floated  before  his  eyes  —  a 
woman's  dark,  sweet,  passionate  face.  He  saw  her,  pistol 
in  hand,  facing  his  enemy  on  the  wild  Californian  desert, 
steeling  her  nerves  and  hardening  her  heart  to  kill,  that  he 
might  live.  He  saw  her  bending  over  his  wooden  bed  in 
their  rooms  at  San  Francisco,  once  more  gentle  and  femi- 
nine, nursing  him  with  unflagging  tenderness,  bearing  with 
his  sick  fancies,  selling  furniture,  and  jewelry,  and  even 
her  clothes  from  her  back,  to  buy  him  strengthening  food 
and  wine.  A  curious  depression  stole  over  him.  The  wind 
that  blew  in  from  the  sea  seemed  to  bring  to  his  ears  her 
last  despairing  words,  and  the  blackness  of  his  own  ingrati- 
tude seemed  written  in  flaming  letters  across  the  sky.  Again 
he  saw  that  look  of  inward  agony,  of  supreme  pain  and 
despair  which  had  almost  spiritualized  her  face,  in  those 
moments  of  her  last  great  sacrifice.  Poor  Myra!  Was  ever 
the  deep,  strong  love  of  a  woman  so  ill  requited?  He  had 
left  her  —  to  what?  A  cold  shudder  swept  through  his 
veins.  He  gave  a  sharp  little  cry  and  turned  away  inland, 
walking  so  fast  that  Raymond  Bettesford  had  hard  work  to 
keep  near  him. 


196  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

He  slackened  his  pace  presently,  and  looked  down  at  his 
companion. 

"  I  forgot  all  about  you/'  he  said  apologetically.  "  I'm 
so  used  to  being  alone.  Something  came  back  to  me.  Dam- 
nation! " 

Bettesford  frowned.  "  I  do  wish  you  would  not  swear/' 
he  said. 

Bryan  laughed.  "  Oh,  I'll  be  careful,"  he  answered.  "  I 
can't  get  out  of  my  old  habits  all  at  once;  and,  Bettesford, 
there  is  one  little  corner  of  my  life  that  I'd  give  my  little 
finger  to  be  able  to  blot  out.  The  memory  of  it  maddens  me. 
I  can't  see  clearly  how  I  came  to  be  to  blame,  but  when  I 
think  of  it  I  feel  like  a  mean  coward,  like  a  villain,  and  I 
hate  myself." 

"  Was  it  in  California?  "  the  other  asked. 

"  Yes.  Some  day  I'll  tell  you  about  it,  and  you  shall  be 
my  judge.  Not  now;  it  hurts  too  much.  Away  with  it! 
What  a  glorious  walk  we  are  having!  " 

They  turned  their  backs  upon  the  sea,  and  walked  inland, 
side  by  side.  It  was  odd  what  a  friendship  had  sprung  up 
between  the  two  men,  to  all  appearance  the  very  antithesis 
of  each  other.  There  was  something  in  their  very  walk,  in 
the  tone  of  their  speech  when  they  addressed  one  another, 
which  proclaimed  a  perfect  understanding.  Physically, 
the  contrast  between  them  was  almost  absurd.  Raymond 
Bettesford's  fair,  kindly  little  face,  with  its  shrewd  mouth 
and  weak  eyes,  did  not  reach  to  Bryan's  shoulder,  whilst  his 
clerical  black  clothes,  a  little  the  worse  for  wear,  only 
accentuated  the  smallness  of  his  stature.  Bryan's  great 
height  seemed  positively  added  to  by  his  well-cut  Norfolk 
coat  and  knickerbockers.  Then  his  face,  bronzed,  yet  full 
of  power  and  fire,  w^th  his  tawny  beard  reduced  now  to 
fashionable  dimensions,  and  his  bright  blue  eyes,  seemed 
full  of  vigorous  and  virile  animal  life.    No  contrast  could 


A   MEETING   ON   THE   MOOR  197 

have  been  greater  than  Raymond  Bettesford's  pallid  oval 
face,  with  its  small  features  and  refined  expression.  Yet 
from  the  very  first,  the  two  men  seemed  to  have  understood 
one  another.  The  rugged  strength  and  self-reliance  of 
Bryan's  nature  was  attractive  to  Bettesford,  whilst  his  own 
shrewd  good-nature  and  kindliness  had  appealed  equally  to 
Bryan.  The  curate's  life  had  been  lonely  enough  before  his 
pupil's  arrival;  now  he  seemed  to  have  found  a  new  interest, 
and  a  constant  companion.  If  ever  there  was  an  outlying 
farm  to  visit,  or  a  service  to  take  in  a  distant  village,  Bryan 
was  ready  and  eager  to  go;  in  fact,  most  of  the  instruction 
took  place  out-of-doors.  Every  morning  they  walked  to- 
gether on  the  moorland,  to  Raymond  Bettesford's  infinite 
advantage,  and  every  afternoon,  wet  or  fine,  Bryan  was  ex- 
pected to  appear  with  him  at  Miss  Bettesford's  one  effort 
of  the  day,  the  dispensing  of  afternoon  tea.  That  Bryan 
should  have  become  such  an  instant  favourite  with  his  aunt, 
puzzled  even  Raymond.  But  so  it  was.  Every  afternoon 
her  face  lit  up  at  his  coming,  and  became  anxious  if  he  were 
a  few  minutes  late.  And  Bryan,  a  little  nervous  sometimes 
with  men,  was  absolutely  at  his  ease  with  her,  and  curiously 
enough,  had  been  so  from  the  first  moment  that  Raymond, 
with  some  trepidation,  had  brought  him,  and  introduced 
him.  He  would  sit  and  talk  with  her  for  hours,  bending 
over  her  frail,  delicate  figure  with  a  devotion  that  was  al- 
most reverential,  and  ministering  to  all  her  little  invalid 
wants  with  wonderful  forethought  and  care.  Once  a  week 
he  rode  off  to  the  market-town  on  his  great  bay  horse,  bring- 
ing back  a  pile  of  library  books,  and  always  a  basket  of  fruit 
and  flowers.  He  did  the  shopping  for  the  family  on  those 
occasions,  and  many  were  the  odd  little  commissions  which 
he  laughingly  accepted. 

These  days  formed  a  sort  of  interlude  for  Bryan  —  a  link 
between  his  two  lives  —  whose  passionless  peace  he  found  it 
always  a  pleasure  to  look  back  upon. 


198     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

The  Old  Hall,  of  which  he  had  become  the  tenant,  was 
barely  half  a  mile  from  the  Vicarage,  and  every  morning 
he  came  striding  across  the  fields,  with  his  pipe  in  his 
mouth,  at  about  nine  o'clock.     For  an  hour,  sometimes 
longer,  they  read  together;   then  there  was  a  walk,  and 
often  the  two  men  would  lunch  together  at  the  Hall.    In 
the  afternoon  there  would  be  more  walking,  probably  a 
round  of  parish  duties,  and  at  four  o'clock  Miss  Bettesford 
was  ready  to  give  them  tea.    Bryan  always  went  home  to 
dinner  —  his  appetite  he  used  to  say,  was  too  huge  for  him 
to  inflict  himself  on  them  for  more  than  one  meal  a  day  — 
but  he  came  down  again  in  the  evening,  and  the  two  men 
smoked  and  talked,  and  read  the  time  away,  unless  Miss 
Bettesford  was  still  up,  in  which  case  they  spent  the  first 
part  of  the  evening  in  the  drawing-room  with  her.    It  was  a 
new  life  to  Bryan,  this  little  glimpse  of  refined  yet  simple 
domesticity,  and  it  came  to  him  with  an  added  zest  at  the 
very  moment  when  he  found  himself  in  reality  upon  the 
threshold  of  a  new  world.    For  Raymond  Bettesford  was  in 
many  ways  admirably  qualified  to  fill  the  post  of  instructor, 
and  Bryan  himself  was  an  eager  and  an  apt  pupil.    All  that 
was  rough  and  course  in  the  man  seemed  to  be  purely  su- 
perficial, the  inevitable  adjuncts  of  his  early  surroundings 
and  later  associations.    It  was  wonderful  what  progress  he 
made.    Even  Bettesford,  an  enthusiastic  master  and  proud 
of  his  pupil,  was  amazed  at  the  gentleness  and  self-repres- 
sion which  came  over  Bryan  in  all  his  conversation  and  in- 
tercourse with  Miss  Bettesford.    The  man  who  could  be- 
have as  he  did  by  intuition,  must  be  a  man  of  the  very  finest 
instincts,  and  yet  there  were  times  when  a  certain  look  came 
into  his  face  —  it  was  there  this  afternoon  —  which  he  had 
learned  to  dread.    At  such  times  he  felt  that  Bryan  was 
outside    his    control  —  that    the    old    vagabondism    was 
triumphant,  and  the  animal  nature  of  the  man  in  revolt 


A   MEETING   ON   THE   MOOR  199 

against  the  trammels  of  knowledge  and  culture.  Bryan  had 
not  yet  given  him  his  whole  confidence  —  he  could  only 
guess  from  occasional  fits  of  gloom,  at  some  dark  corner  in 
his  life,  the  memory  of  which,  in  the  light  of  his  rapidly  ex- 
panding experience,  must  naturally  be  galling  and  weari- 
some. To-day  he  surmised,  for  the  first  time,  that  it  had  to 
do  with  a  woman.  The  suspicion  gave  him  no  shock.  In 
all  matters  of  his  own  life  he  was  scrupulously  faithful  to 
himself  and  to  his  vows,  but  he  was  no  Jesuit.  If  Bryan  had 
chosen  at  that  moment  to  have  told  him  all  about  Myra  and 
his  life  with  her,  he  would  have  been  a  very  lenient  judge. 
But  Bryan  did  not  tell  him.  He  did  not  feel  that  he  could 
tell  anybody.  No  one  else  could  understand  it.  So  they 
walked  on  in  unbroken  silence;  Bryan  a  few  yards  apart 
with  knitted  brows,  and  a  shadow  still  upon  his  face. 

In  the  midst  of  the  desolate  country  they  came  to  a  road 
which  wound  its  way  across  the  bare  moor,  and  disappeared 
upon  the  hillside  in  the  distance  —  a  road  without  any 
semblance  of  a  hedge,  and  here  and  there  completely  hidden 
by  the  clustering  furze-bushes.  They  were  already  half- 
way across  it  when  Bettesford  stood  still,  gazing  over  the 
moor  inland. 

"  Quite  a  procession  coming  down  the  hill,"  he  remarked. 
"  Not  very  often  one  sees  a  vehicle  upon  this  road  either!  " 

Bryan,  too,  stood  still  and  gazed.  He  was  not  interested, 
but  anything  which  afforded  a  prospect  of  escape  from  his 
present  thoughts  was  welcome.  In  the  far  distance,  some- 
thing all  bright  and  glittering  was  coming  at  a  measured 
pace  along  the  tortuous  road,  followed  by  some  other 
vehicle.  They  watched  for  a  moment  or  two.  Then  Bettes- 
ford broke  into  a  little  laugh. 

"  It  is  only  a  Wessemer  carriage  and  the  luggage  carts," 
he  exclaimed.  "  The  people  coming  down  from  town,  I 
suppose!    Come  along.    We  don't  want  to  see  them!  " 


200  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

But  Bryan  did  not  move. 

"  Are  they  coming  back  to  the  Court  to  stay  —  already, 
then?  "  he  asked.    "  The  Earl  and  Lady  Helen?  " 

Bettesford  nodded,  and  sent  a  pebble  flying  with  his 
stick. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  he  answered.  "  I  heard  that  they  were 
coming  this  week!    Come  on!  " 

Still  Bryan  did  not  move.  He  stood  in  the  middle  of  the 
road,  with  his  face  turned  towards  the  cavalcade,  now 
rapidly  approaching.  They  disappeared  for  a  moment  in  a 
dip  of  the  road,  and  Bettesford  again  laid  his  hand  upon 
Bryan's  arm. 

"Come  along,  man!"  he  exclaimed,  glancing  into  his 
face  with  surprise.  "  Are  you  turned  to  stone?  You  can't 
stand  there  and  gape  at  them." 

Bryan  moved  slowly  off  the  road  on  to  the  turf,  without 
speaking.  There  was  an  odd  look  in  his  downcast  face, 
strange  to  his  companion. 

"  Let  us  walk  slowly,"  he  said.  "  I  should  like  to  see  the 
Earl,  I  have  not  seen  him  since  I  was  a  boy." 

Bettesford  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  gave  in.  They 
walked  a  few  paces  and  then  turned  round.  The  heavy, 
smoothly-rolling  barouche,  drawn  by  a  pair  of  great  satin- 
coated  bays,  was  close  at  hand  now.  The  men  on  the  box 
wore  cockades,  and  the  Wessemer  liveries.  There  were  ro- 
settes upon  the  horses'  ears,  and  a  coronet  upon  the  low  panel. 
Now  it  was  almost  opposite  to  them,  and  Bryan's  gaze 
grew  steadfast.  On  the  left  side  sat  the  Earl  of  Wessemer, 
leaning  back  amongst  the  cushions,  his  dark,  classical  face 
destitute  of  all  colour,  seeming  paler  than  ever  from  its  set- 
ting of  rich  furs;  and  by  his  side  was  Lady  Helen  wrapped 
in  sealskins,  but  with  her  veil  raised,  and  a  faint  pink  colour 
in  her  cheeks,  as  though  she  had  been  enjoying  the  fresh 
strong  breeze  blowing  in  across  the  level  land  from  the  sea. 


A   MEETING   ON   THE   MOOR  201 

She  saw  them  first,  and  leaned  forward  with  slightly  raised 
eyebrows  and  incredulous  gaze. 

Quite  unconsciously  the  two  watchers,  or  rather  one  of 
them,  were  forming  a  somewhat  striking  picture.  Bryan 
was  standing  at  his  full  height  on  the  edge  of  the  moor,  with 
no  background  save  of  sky  and  air,  against  which  his  great 
figure  stood  out  with  a  wonderful  statuesque  vividness.  He 
carried  his  cap  still  in  his  hand,  and  the  wind  was  sweeping 
through  his  clustering  hair  and  tawny  beard.  His  head  was 
thrown  back,  and  his  eyes,  bright  and  piercing  underneath 
his  dark  contracted  eyebrows,  seemed  to  flash  with  a  sort 
of  challenge  as  they  met  Lady  Helen's.  By  his  side  Ray- 
mond Bettesford's  slim  figure  and  polite  bow  seemed 
dwarfed  into  a  sort  of  bathos.  The  very  ease  with  which  he 
raised  his  broad-brimmed  hat,  savouring  so  essentially  of 
the  conventional,  seemed  to  strike  an  odd  discordant  note 
in  the  little  tableau.  He  was  utterly  unconscious  that  any- 
thing out  of  the  common  was  happening.  The  dramatic 
side  of  the  meeting  upon  the  bare  moorside  was  lost  upon 
him. 

For  a  moment  there  came  no  response  to  his  salutation. 
Lady  Helen  seemed  unable  to  escape  from  the  steady,  level 
fire  of  those  clear  bright  eyes  which  never  swerved  from 
hers,  and  the  Earl,  although  he  had  not  abandoned  or  al- 
tered his  reclining  position,  was  gazing  fixedly  at  Bryan. 
Then  the  whole  little  tableau  came  suddenly  to  its  natural 
ending.  The  carriage,  which  had  not  slackened  its  pace, 
rolled  on.  Just  at  the  last  second,  Lady  Helen  withdrew  her 
eyes,  and  bowed  half  mechanically,  and  with  a  faint  smile, 
to  the  curate.  Then  she  leaned  back  amongst  the  cushions, 
and  Lord  Wessemer  turned  slightly  towards  her,  evidently 
asking  a  question.  Bryan  took  a  deep  breath,  and  watched 
the  carriage  disappear. 

Bettesford  glanced  at  him  oddly.    "  Lady  Helen  was  not 


202  THE   WORLD'S    GREAT   SNARE 

particularly  gracious/'  he  remarked,  "  and  the  Earl  never 
even  looked  at  me.  Bryan,  old  chap,"  he  continued, 
"  you'll  forgive  me,  won't  you,  but  you  must  not  stare  at 
people  like  that,  even  if  they  are  interesting.  They  seemed 
quite  disturbed." 

Bryan  withdrew  his  eyes  from  the  road,  and  looked  at 
his  companion  for  a  moment  blankly,  as  though  he  had  not 
understood.  Then  suddenly  he  burst  into  a  mighty  laugh, 
a  laugh  which  went  ringing  away  over  the  level  country,  and 
came  back  in  strange  echoes  from  the  hills. 

Bettesford  looked  at  him  in  amazement.  Decidedly  his 
pupil  was  a  very  strange  fellow ! 


CHAPTER   VI 

LIKE  POISON   LINGERING   IN  THE   BRAIN 

It  was  quite  a  cosy  little  tea-party.  Miss  Bettesford  as 
usual  presided,  seated  in  a  low  chair  with  a  small  round 
table  drawn  up  to  her  side.  As  a  rule,  things  were  very 
plainly  served  at  the  Vicarage,  but  afternoon  tea  was  always 
a  dainty  repast.  The  silver  teapot  was  of  quaint  "  Queen 
Anne  "  design,  and  the  cups  and  saucers  of  old  Derby  blue. 
There  was  hot  toast,  cake,  and  bread  and  butter,  and  a  curi- 
ous old  cut-glass  jug  of  cream.  For  a  household  of  limited 
means,  Miss  Bettesford  used  to  say,  it  was  the  only  meal 
which  it  was  possible  to  serve  in  an  artistic  manner.  It  was 
the  one  delight  of  her  long  days  to  welcome  her  boys,  as  she 
was  beginning  to  call  her  nephew  and  his  strange  pupil,  in 
the  long,  low-roofed  drawing-room,  and  have  them  sit 
around  the  fire  in  little  impossible  chairs,  and  talk  to  her  of 
the  day's  doings.  It  was  very  seldom  indeed  that  they  were 
disturbed  by  callers.  It  was  a  sparsely  populated  neigh- 
bourhood as  regards  county  gentlefolk,  and  Miss  Bettesford 
was  known  to  be,  in  her  way,  a  proud  woman,  and  not  dis- 
posed to  encourage  the  advances  of  strangers.  So  they 
generally  had  it  all  to  themselves. 

They  had  been  talking  of  the  Wessemers,  for  it  was  only 
a  day  or  two  after  their  arrival,  and  the  event  was  too  im- 
portant a  one  to  be  ignored.    From  the  low  French  win- 

203 


204     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

dows,  the  flag  at  the  Court  could  be  seen  floating  in  the 
breeze.  Miss  Bettesford  had  spent  a  good  many  hours  look- 
ing at  it  —  and  wondering. 

"  You  knew  the  Earl  well,  didn't  you,  Aunt,  when  he  was 
only  Mr.  Nugent?  "  Raymond  asked.  "  What  was  he  like 
then?  " 

Miss  Bettesford  leaned  back,  and  looked  thoughtfully 
into  the  fire. 

"  What  was  he  like?  "  she  said.  "  Do  you  mean  in  ap- 
pearance? " 

He  shook  his  head.  "No!  I  mean  altogether  —  in  all 
ways,"  he  answered  vaguely,  taking  another  piece  of  toast 
and  sipping  his  tea.  "  Mrs.  Grant  told  me  the  other  day 
that  he  was  a  famous  steeple-chase  rider  once,  and  won  the 
Grand  National  on  his  own  horse.  One  would  scarcely 
associate  any  liking  for  that  sort  of  thing  with  him  now!  " 

"  His  tastes  changed  a  good  deal  after  he  went  abroad,  I 
believe,"  Miss  Bettesford  answered.  "  He  was  in  the  dip- 
lomatic service,  you  know.  He  was  secretary  to  the  Em- 
bassy at  Rome  for  several  years,  and  they  say  that  if  he  had 
chosen  to  go  in  for  politics,  he  would  have  had  a  great 
career.  He  wrote  a  volume  of  verse,  too,  and  people  were 
beginning  to  talk  about  him  as  a  second  Byron;  but  di- 
rectly he  found  that  he  was  in  a  fair  way  to  become  famous, 
wrote  no  more.  He  was  always  like  that.  He  affects  to 
despise  everything  and  everybody,  and  to  prefer  a  life  of 
cultured  isolation.  The  last  time  I  saw  him  —  it  was  a  long 
while  ago  —  I  heard  him  say  that  England  was  a  country  in 
which  it  was  utterly  impossible  to  live.  He  has  spent  most 
of  his  life  at  Florence,  as  you  know." 

"  I'd  like  awfully  to  read  that  volume  of  his  poems!  " 
Raymond  remarked. 

"  So  should  I,"  Bryan  echoed  in  his  deep  voice. 

Miss  Bettesford  looked  searchingly  at  Bryan  for  a  mo- 


LIKE  POISON  LINGERING  IN  THE  BRAIN    205 

ment.  Then  she  felt  in  her  pocket,  and  produced  her 
keys. 

"  Well,  suppose  I  indulge  you,"  she  said  slowly.  "  I  dare 
say  you'll  be  disappointed." 

Raymond  sprang  up,  nearly  upsetting  his  cup. 

"  What!  have  you  got  them?  "  he  cried. 

She  handed  him  her  keys.  "  Look  in  my  secretary,  in 
the  third  drawer,"  she  directed. 

Raymond  retreated  to  the  other  end  of  the  room,  jingling 
the  keys  in  his  hand.  Bryan  looked  up  from  his  ottoman  by 
Miss  Bettesford's  side.    He  leaned  over  towards  her. 

"  I  have  heard  people  speak  of  the  Earl  as  an  utterly  self- 
ish man  —  as  a  wicked  man!  "  he  said  slowly.  "  Was  this 
true?  " 

She  appeared  troubled.  The  firelight  was  falling  upon 
her  sweet,  wan  face,  with  its  soft  crown  of  white  hair,  and 
Bryan  could  see  that  the  gentle  repose  of  her  features  had 
been  disturbed  by  his  question. 

"I  am  afraid  that  in  great  measure  —  it  is  true,"  she 
answered  sadly.  "  He  called  himself  a  philosopher  —  Philip 
the  Epicurean,  was  the  name  he  was  known  by  at  college  — ■ 
and  what  he  called  philosophy,  other  people  would  have 
called  by  a  harder  name.  He  used  to  admit  that  he  had  no 
morals,  and  no  religion.  Yet  there  were  people  who  were 
very  fond  of  him." 

"Ah!" 

Bryan  looked  steadily  into  the  fire.  She  watched  him, 
watched  the  firelight  flash  upon  his  bowed  face  and  ruddy 
brown  beard,  and  gleam  in  his  set  bright  eyes;  and  when 
she  withdrew  her  furtive  glance  she  shivered  a  little.  It  was 
a  noble  head,  but  the  fines  of  the  mouth  were  firm  and 
cruel. 

There  was  a  little  exclamation  from  behind.  Raymond 
had  advanced  out  of  the  shadows,  holding  before  him  a 


206  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

small  volume  bound  in  sage-green  morocco.  He  was  looking 
at  the  title-page. 

"Why,  Aunt,  this  is  a  presentation  copy!"  he  cried. 
"  It  was  given  to  you  by  him,  and  he  calls  you  by  your 
Christian  name !    Here  it  is : 

"  '  To  Marion,  from  Guy  B.  Nugent.'  " 

There  was  a  moment's  deep  silence.  She  was  leaning 
back  in  her  chair,  and  her  face  was  in  the  shadow. 

"  I  had  forgotten  —  the  inscription!  "  she  said.  "  But  I 
think  I  told  you  that  we  used  to  see  a  good  deal  of  one  an- 
other just  then.  Your  grandfather  was  Vicar  here,  you 
know!  " 

"Why,  of  course!  "  Raymond  exclaimed.  "  This  is  in- 
teresting! " 

He  sat  down,  and  commenced  turning  over  the  pages. 
Miss  Bettesford  looked  at  Bryan. 

"  You  haven't  had  your  second  cup  of  tea!  "  she  said 
quietly.    "  How  silent  we  all  are  this  afternoon!  " 

Bryan  held  out  his  cup  readily. 

"  I'm  not  going  without  it,  all  the  same,"  he  answered. 
"  I  never  tasted  such  tea  in  my  life." 

She  smiled  faintly  as  she  lifted  the  silver  teapot. 

"  I  should  like  to  have  seen  what  you  made  in  those  tin 
things  —  pannikins,  didn't  you  call  them?  " 

Bryan  made  a  wry  face. 

"  Seeing  would  have  been  quite  enough,"  he  remarked. 
"  We  had  no  milk,  you  know,  and  often  no  sugar.  One  chap 
had  a  goat,  and  we  milked  it  sometimes  —  but  it  wasn't 
very  good!  " 

"  I  don't  think  men  are  any  good  at  all  at  making  tea," 
she  said,  smiling,  as  she  handed  him  the  dainty  little  blue 
cup.    "  It  needs  a  woman!  " 

A  deep  flush  stole  into  Bryan's  cheeks,  and  he  made  a 
sudden  impetuous  movement  which  nearly  upset  the  little 


LIKE  POISON  LINGERING  IN  THE  BRAIN    207 

bamboo  table.  A  swift  vision  of  his  evening  meal  so  deftly 
prepared  for  him  in  that  far-away  pinewood  shanty  on  the 
banks  of  the  Blue  River,  had  flashed  up  before  him.  Every- 
thing was  there  —  his  memory  had  been  absolutely  faithful 
to  him.  There  was  his  little  bed  in  the  corner,  neatly  made, 
and  half  concealed;  the  rude  table,  scrubbed  and  polished, 
and  his  supper  set  out  upon  it  with  a  care  and  neatness 
which  had  been  a  revelation  to  him.  There  was  an  attempt 
at  a  white  cloth,  a  thing  he  had  never  dreamed  of,  and  in 
the  centre  a  great  bunch  of  scarlet  blossoms  gathered  from 
the  shrubs  outside.  Even  the  floor  had  been  cleaned  of  the 
debris  of  many  a  night's  smoking  and  drinking,  and  the  odour 
of  stale  tobacco  smoke  had  unaccountably  disappeared,  to 
be  replaced  by  the  sweet  aromatic  perfume  of  the  clustering 
flowers.  But  more  than  anything  else,  the  memory  of  the 
girl  had  clung  to  him.  There  she  stood,  just  where  the  sun- 
light touched  her  hair,  and  flashed  in  her  glad,  dark  eyes, 
straight  and  slim  in  the  tight-fitting  serge  dress,  but  as 
supple  and  elegant  as  some  beautiful  wild  creature  of  the 
woods.  He  heard  her  little  musical  cry  of  welcome,  and  saw 
the  faint  colour  flushing  in  her  dusky  cheeks  —  almost  he 
could  feel  the  soft  caress  of  her  arms,  and  the  touch  of  her 
passionate  kiss  upon  his  lips.  Bryan  ground  his  teeth  to- 
gether, utterly  forgetful  for  the  moment  of  his  whereabouts. 
Was  he  never  to  escape  from  the  poison  of  these  memories? 
His  cheeks  burned  with  a  sort  of  shame  that  they  should 
have  found  their  way  into  this  little  home  circle  whose  sweet 
refinement  had  become  so  unspeakably  dear  to  him.  For 
the  first  effects  of  his  association  with  Miss  Bettesford  and 
this  quiet,  secluded  life  at  the  Vicarage  had  been  the  growth 
of  a  sort  of  ultra-Puritanism,  from  which  standpoint  he 
looked  back  with  absolute  horror  upon  his  Californian  life, 
and  everything  connected  with  Myra  and  his  association 
with  her.    Even  to  think  of  those  days  while  he  sat  side  by 


208     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

side  with  Miss  Bettesford,  and  looked  into  her  sweet,  worn 
face,  was  like  a  sacrilege ;  it  was  like  bringing  some  unclean 
thing  into  the  presence  of  God.  In  another  moment  he  felt 
that  he  must  have  cried  out  under  the  lash  of  these  mem- 
ories, but  there  came  a  welcome  interruption.  Raymond 
commenced  reading  aloud  a  dainty  little  sonnet  which  had 
taken  his  fancy. 

"These  verses  are  delightful!"  he  exclaimed,  shutting 
up  the  volume  with  regret.  "  No  wonder  that  he  had  to 
give  up  writing  to  escape  fame !  What  a  man  he  must  be  to 
know!" 

No  one  answered.  There  was  a  brief  silence,  broken  by 
unaccustomed  sounds  from  without  —  the  trampling  of 
horses'  feet  in  the  little  avenue,  and  the  rolling  of  wheels. 
Then  an  open  carriage  flashed  past  the  window,  and  came 
to  a  sudden  standstill  before  the  door. 

"  Talk  of  —  an  angel!  "  cried  Raymond,  springing  up. 

"  And  here  comes  the  Earl  of  Wessemer!"  concluded 
Bryan,  with  a  little  hard  laugh. 

But  Miss  Bettesford  did  not  move  or  speak.  She  was 
sitting  as  one  turned  to  stone. 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE  EARL  OF  WESSEMER 

There  was  scarcely  a  moment's  delay  before  the  trim 
little  maid  threw  open  the  door,  and  announced  the  visitor : 

"  The  Earl  of  Wessemer! " 

He  was  following  her  close  behind,  but  stood  still  for  a 
moment  upon  the  threshold,  whilst  she  passed  him  and  set 
down  a  rose-shaded  lamp  upon  a  little  stand.  Miss  Bettes- 
ford  was  leaning  back  in  her  chair  with  half-closed  eyes. 
The  two  men  had  risen. 

He  was  wrapped  from  head  to  foot  in  a  long  fur  coat,  and 
he  carried  a  sealskin  cap  in  his  hand.  As  he  moved  slowly 
forward  towards  them,  and  came  into  the  broad  circle  of  the 
dancing  firelight,  a  sort  of  glow  seemed  to  fall  upon  his 
perfectly-shaped  head,  with  its  classic  features  and  full  dark 
eyes.  He  wanted  only  the  limp  —  Raymond  declared  after- 
wards —  and  he  would  have  been  a  perfect  elderly  Byron. 

He  walked  up  to  Miss  Bettesford's  side  with  extended 
hand,  and  a  very  slight  smile  upon  his  lips. 

"  I  owe  you  a  thousand  apologies  for  this  informal  call," 
he  said,  bending  over  her  hand.  "  Last  night  I  heard  that 
you  were  living  here  with  your  nephew,  and  I  could  not 
deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  this  visit." 

"  We  are  glad  to  see  you,  Lord  Wessemer,"  she  answered 
quietly. 

209 


210     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

"  And  this  is  your  nephew,  of  course,"  he  said,  shaking 
hands  with  Raymond,  "  and  this " 

He  had  turned  a  little  abruptly  to  where  Bryan  was 
standing  exactly  opposite  to  him,  and  looked  at  him  fixedly. 
There  was  something  striking  in  the  appearance  of  the  two 
men,  both  unusually  tall,  and  sharing  a  common  air  of  dis- 
tinction, and  yet  so  utterly  different.  Bryan,  drawn  up  to 
his  full  height,  and  with  his  head  thrown  back,  seemed  to 
tower  over  the  Earl,  and  he  did  not  flinch  for  a  moment 
from  the  other's  keen  scrutiny.  Neither  of  them  moved  a 
muscle.  There  was  a  shade  of  something  more  than  ordi- 
nary curiosity  in  Lord  Wessemer's  face,  but  it  faded  away 
before  Bryan's  perfect  immovability.  There  was  not 
the  slightest  trace  of  a  smile  upon  his  lips,  or  any  sign  of 
embarrassment. 

"  This  is  my  nephew's  friend  and  a  new  neighbour  of 
ours,"  Miss  Bettesford  said,  breaking  the  momentary  si- 
lence.   "  Mr.  Bryan!" 

The  Earl  bowed  slightly.  He  did  not  offer  his  hand,  and 
Bryan  had  clasped  his  behind  him,  as  was  often  his  custom 
when  standing. 

"  Ah,  we  met  Mr.  Bryan  and  your  nephew  on  the  moor, 
I  think,  on  the  day  of  our  arrival,"  Lord  Wessemer  said, 
dropping  into  a  low  chair.  "  What  a  wild,  bleak  country 
this  is!" 

"  You  must  find  it  so,  after  Florence,"  Raymond  re- 
marked. 

The  Earl  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Florence  is  the  draughtiest  city  in  the  world,"  he  de- 
clared. "  I  am  afraid  I  have  outgrown  my  love  for  it.  I 
have  bought  a  villa  at  Algiers,  and  I  shall  winter  there  in 
future.  Florence  has  become  a  city  of  ghosts  to  me.  My 
few  friends  have  all  left  it,  or  died.  The  English  ele- 
ment has  become  absorbed  in  the  American.    It  was  time 


THE   EARL   OF   WESSEMER  211 

for  me  to  come  away.  Pardon  me !  Do  I  see  a  teapot  there, 
Miss  Bettesford?  " 

"I  am  so  sorry,  I  forgot  to  ask  you,"  Miss  Bettesford 
said,  ringing  the  bell.  "  You  will  have  some  tea,  won't 
you?  " 

"  If  I  may  —  a  single  cup.  One  gets  nauseated  with 
green  tea  a  la  Russe  on  the  Continent.  English  tea  with 
cream  is  the  only  tea  fit  to  drink.  By-the-bye,  Mr.  Bettes- 
ford, I  had  a  letter  from  you  about  some  schools,  I  think.  I 
don't  believe  in  education  myself,  but  I  have  told  my  agent 
to  call  upon  you,  and  take  your  instructions.  Whatever  you 
wish,  shall  be  done." 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged,  Lord  Wessemer,"  Raymond 
answered  earnestly,  with  a  flushed  face.  Those  few  careless 
words  meant  more  to  him  than  he  could  possibly  have  ex- 
pressed. Henceforth  he  regarded  Lord  Wessemer  in  a  new 
light. 

Their  visitor  stayed  for  half  an  hour,  chatting  pleasantly, 
and  every  now  and  then,  during  the  pauses  in  the  conversa- 
tion, glancing  keenly  at  Bryan,  who  sat  apart  and  talked 
very  little.  Towards  the  end  of  his  visit  he  rose,  and  looked 
towards  the  conservatory. 

"  Are  you  still  as  fond  of  palms  as  ever,  Miss  Bettesford?" 
he  asked.  "  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  banks  of  green  as  I  drove 
past." 

"  Yes,  I  am  still  fond  of  them,"  she  answered.  "  I  have 
only  a  few,  though." 

"  Will  you  show  them  to  me?  " 

He  rose  and  offered  his  arm,  bending  over  her  with  the 
easy  grace  of  a  courtier.  She  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and 
then  slowly  rising,  placed  her  fingers  upon  his  coat-sleeve. 

"  They  are  scarcely  worth  looking  at,"  she  said,  "  I  have 
only  one  or  two  that  are  at  all  rare." 

They  crossed  the  room  and  entered  the  little  glass  house, 


212     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

Lord  Wessemer  closing  the  door  after  them  with  some  care- 
less remark  about  the  draught.  Neither  of  them  made  any 
pretence  at  examining  the  palms.  She  stood  leaning  against 
the  wall,  with  her  hands  pressed  to  her  heart,  and  very  pale. 
He  stood  over  her,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  hers  as  though  they 
were  trying  to  read  her  thoughts. 

"  Who  is  that  young  man?  "  he  asked. 

She  shook  her  head.  "  I  do  not  know.  He  has  come  to 
the  Old  Hall.  He  reads  with  Raymond.  I  know  no  more 
of  him." 

"  Is  this  true?  " 

"As  I  live!" 

He  hesitated. 

"  Have  you  noticed  anything  about  him?  " 

"  It  is  fancy!  "  she  said  hoarsely.    "  It  must  be  fancy!  " 

"  Has  he  given  any  account  of  himself  at  all?  " 

"None  —  except  that  he  made  his  money  abroad.  I 
dare  not  question  him.  Sometimes  —  his  eyes  frighten 
me!" 

The  Earl  bent  over  a  palm,  and  let  its  slender  threads  run 
through  his  fingers. 

"  You  must  let  me  know,  if  —  if " 

"  Don't!  "  she  cried.  "  You  have  no  right  to  come  here 
at  all !    It  is  terrible !    I  —  I  am  not  strong !  " 

He  looked  into  her  worn,  white  face,  and  sighed.  He  had 
made  sonnets  to  it  when  the  eyes  had  been  soft  and  bright, 
and  the  hair  golden.  He  was  an  aesthete,  and  the  decay -of 
beauty  was  painful  to  him. 

"  Permit  me!  "  he  said,  offering  his  arm.  "  It  is  too  cold 
for  you  here!  " 

They  were  back  again  in  the  warm  drawing-room  after 
an  absence  of  barely  five  minutes.  But  Miss  Bettesford 
tottered  a  little  as  she  walked,  although  she  made  no  effort 
to  lean  upon  Lord  Wessemer's  arm.   Bryan,  who  was  watch- 


THE   EARL   OF   WESSEMER  213 

ing,  sprang  up  and  moved  towards  her.  She  left  the  Earl, 
and  gratefully  accepted  his  support. 

"  Thank  you!  "  she  said,  leaning  heavily  upon  him.  "  I 
am  afraid  that  I  am  not  very  strong  to-day !  " 

Lord  Wessemer  murmured  a  httle  regretful  sentence,  and 
stood  prepared  to  take  his  leave. 

"  Will  you  lunch  with  me  to-morrow,  Mr.  Bettesford?  " 
he  asked,  as  he  shook  hands  with  him. 

"  I  shall  be  very  pleased,"  Raymond  answered  at  once. 

"  And  if  your  friend,  Mr.  Bryan,  will  pardon  the  infor- 
mality, perhaps  he  will  accompany  you?  "  Lord  Wessemer 
added,  turning  to  Bryan. 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  come!  "  Bryan  answered  promptly. 

The  two  men  bowed.  Then  Lord  Wessemer  bent  once 
more  over  Miss  Bettesford. 

"  Helen  will  be  coming  to  see  you  very  soon,"  he  said. 
"  If  she  can  persuade  you  to  come  and  see  my  palms,  and 
pay  us  a  little  visit,  it  will  make  us  very  happy.  Once  more, 
good  afternoon." 

Raymond  walked  with  him  to  the  front  door.  In  the 
little  drawing-room,  they  could  hear  the  sound  of  courteous 
voices,  the  closing  of  the  carriage  door,  and  the  trampling 
of  the  horses  as  they  pawed  up  the  gravel  of  the  little 
avenue.  To  her,  the  sound  seemed  to  come  from  a  great 
distance,  and  echoed  faintly  in  her  ears.  She  was  passing 
through  minutes  of  torture  —  she,  a  weak  woman  for  whom 
excitement  was  death.  And  Bryan,  kneeling  by  her  side, 
with  his  eyes  looking  into  hers,  seemed  also  to  realize  in 
some  vague  way  the  acute  tension  of  those  long  minutes. 
He  never  knew  exactly  why  he  did  it  —  it  was  one  of  those 
impulses  which  leap  up  from  the  heart;  but,  as  the  carriage 
drove  off,  he  took  the  slender  white  hands  which  had  been 
resting  in  his  broad  palm,  and  pressed  them  tenderly  to  his 
lips. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

THE  TOTTERING  OF  THE  BARRIER 

The  stable  clock  was  striking  two  when  Raymond  Bettes- 
ford  and  Bryan  arrived  at  Wessemer  Court  on  the  following 
morning.  They  were  shown  by  a  footman  in  scarlet  livery 
into  the  billiard-room  —  really  a  part  of  the  great  hall  — 
where  the  Earl  stood,  watching  a  game  between  two  of  his 
neighbours. 

He  shook  hands  with  them,  and  introduced  Bryan  to  the 
two  men  who  were  playing  —  Captain  Forrester,  and  Sir 
George  Brankhurst.  They  all  three  remained  watching  the 
game,  Bryan  standing  by  Lord  Wessemer's  side. 

"  We  are  waiting  lunch  for  my  ward,  Lady  Helen,"  he 
said.  "  She  has  driven  to  the  station  to  meet  her  brother. 
An  excellent  cannon,  Brankhurst!  Do  you  understand 
billiards,  Mr.  Bryan?  " 

Bryan,  who  had  played  once  or  twice  in  the  great  second- 
class  hotels  of  San  Francisco  with  men  who  wore  but  a  soiled 
shirt  and  a  pair  of  trousers,  and  who  spat  on  the  floor  and 
swore  volubly  after  every  stroke,  could  scarcely  refrain  from 
smiling  as  he  glanced  round  the  lofty  room,  with  its  domed 
roof  and  stately  appointments,  and  noticed  the  silent  non- 
chalance of  the  two  men. 

"  I  have  played  occasionally  on  an  American  table  — 
without  pockets!  "  he  answered.  "  This  seems  a  very  dif- 
ferent thing,  though." 

214 


THE   TOTTERING   OF   THE   BARRIER     215 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  try  in  a  few  minutes?  "  the 
Earl  suggested.    "  This  game  is  nearly  up." 

Bryan  shook  his  head. 

"  Thanks !    I'd  much  rather  watch." 

The  windows  looked  out  upon  the  broad  avenue,  and,  just 
then,  a  phaeton  and  pair  of  horses  drove  rapidly  past,  and 
drew  up  at  the  front  door.  At  the  same  time  Sir  George 
Brankhurst  made  the  winning  stroke,  and  carefully  replaced 
his  cue  in  the  stand. 

"  I  haven't  seen  Gerald  for  nearly  four  years,"  he  re- 
marked, turning  towards  the  door.  "  I  wonder  if  he  is  as 
much  like  his  sister  as  ever?  " 

They  all  went  out  into  the  hall,  Bryan  keeping  as  much 
as  possible  in  the  background,  but  of  necessity  a  conspic- 
uous figure.  Lady  Helen  was  standing  at  the  foot  of  the 
broad  oak  staircase  in  the  centre  of  the  hall,  and  by  her  side 
was  a  tall,  fair  boy  in  a  light  travelling-coat. 

"  Well,  Gerald,"  said  the  Earl  kindly.  "  Home  again, 
then!" 

"  Yes,  sir;  and  not  half  sorry,  either!  How  do  you  do, 
Sir  George?  " 

He  shook  hands  all  round.  Then  his  eyes  fell  upon  Bryan, 
and  he  gave  a  start  of  amazement.  He  took  a  quick  step 
forward,  and  then  hesitated. 

"  Why,  it  isn't  —  why  —  my  God,  it  is !"  he  cried.  "  Of 
all  the  wonderful  things  in  the  world!  " 

He  held  out  both  his  hands,  and  seized  Bryan's.  Bryan 
was  not  looking  particularly  well  pleased. 

"  How  are  you?  "  he  said  gruffly.  It  was  odd,  but  at  the 
sight  of  the  boy  and  the  associations  he  evoked,  his  voice 
and  his  bearing  had  suddenly  altered.  He  was  in  San 
Francisco  again. 

"  You  two  have  met  before,  then! "  the  Earl  remarked, 
looking  from  one  to  the  other  in  polite  surprise. 


216     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

u  Met  before!  "  the  boy  repeated,  with  an  odd  little  note 
of  seriousness  in  his  tone.  "  It  was  lucky  for  me  that  we 
did  meet  before.    He  saved  my  life  in  San  Francisco!  " 

A  sudden  exclamation  escaped  from  Lord  Wessemer's 
compressed  lips,  and  he  turned  a  shade  paler.  At  any  other 
time  so  rare  a  departure  from  his  innate  nonchalance  could 
scarcely  have  passed  unnoticed. 

"  Are  you  not  making  a  mistake,  Gerald?  "  he  said. 
"  This  is  Mr.  Bryan,  our  new  neighbour  at  the  Old  Hall." 

Bryan's  composure  had  come  back  to  him  as  suddenly  as 
it  had  left. 

"  I  was  in  San  Francisco  a  short  time  ago,"  he  said  drily. 

"  Of  course  you  were!  "  Gerald  exclaimed.  "  I  should 
have  known  you  anywhere  —  anyhow !  I  have  always 
hoped  that  we  should  meet  again,  but  I  never  dreamed  of 
its  being  here!  " 

"  We  must  hear  all  about  it!  "  Lord  Wessemer  said. 

They  had  formed  a  little  group  in  the  centre  of  the  hall. 
Outside  the  circle  the  butler  was  hovering,  for  the  luncheon 
bell  had  rung  as  the  men  had  issued  from  the  billiard- 
room. 

"It  is  not  worth  telling!  "  Bryan  said  quickly.  "  I  knew 
San  Francisco  better  than  Mr.  Wessemer,  and  I  was  able  to 
render  him  some  slight  service.  I  should  prefer  nothing 
more  being  said  about  it!  " 

Bryan  frowned,  and  looked  straight  at  Gerald  Wessemer. 
The  boy  closed  his  mouth.  There  was  something  about 
Bryan's  manner  which  made  it  hard  to  disobey  him  at  any 
time.  The  story  would  have  remained  untold  for  the  pres- 
ent, but  for  Lady  Helen. 

"  Gerald,  I  insist  upon  hearing  it  now,"  she  exclaimed, 
laying  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  "  Mr.  Bryan  will  not 
object  —  if  I  wish  it!  " 

She  looked  appealingly  at  him,  her  proud  young  face  for 


THE   TOTTERING   OF   THE   BARRIER     217 

the  first  time  relaxed.    He  felt  his  heart  beat  furiously.    He 
nodded  to  Gerald.    He  had  nothing  more  to  say. 

"  Well,  it  isn't  particularly  creditable  to  me,  but  I'm 
awfully  glad  to  tell  it!  "  Gerald  declared,  with  a  little  laugh. 
"  Hazelrigg  —  fellow  I  was  travelling  with,  you  know  — 
sort  of  tutor/'  he  explained  for  the  benefit  of  Sir  George  and 
Captain  Forrester,  "  was  laid  up  at  San  Francisco,  and  I 
went  round  alone.  I  found  out  a  restaurant  —  an  odd,  out- 
of-the-way  sort  of  place  —  and  got  a  bit  thick  with  a  fellow 
there.  He  had  won  quite  a  lot  of  money  from  me,  but  he 
was  a  plausible,  gentlemanly  sort  of  chap,  and  I  was  a  young 
fool;  and  anyhow,  there  we  were  one  night  having  dinner 
together,  and  he  was  going  to  take  me  to  a  place  where  I 
could  have  my  revenge  afterwards,  he  said.  Well,  Mr. 
Bryan  came  in  while  we  were  there,  and  I  noticed  that  he 
looked  at  me  rather  curiously,  and  presently  he  came  up  and 
tapped  me  on  the  shoulder,  and  asked  whether  he  could 
have  a  word  with  me.  I  got  up,  and  he  led  me  a  few  steps 
away  and  told  me,  like  a  regular  good  fellow,  that  the  chap 
I  was  with  was  a  professional  gambler  and  a  cheat,  and 
begged  me  not  to  have  anything  to  do  with  him.  Of  course, 
like  a  young  fool,  I  got  hot  and  indignant,  and  I'm  afraid  I 
told  him  to  mind  his  own  business.  Well,  he  shrugged 
his  shoulders,  and  went  away.  After  dinner,  the  chap 
—  Mercier  he  called  himself  —  took  me  to  a  regular  gam- 
bling-hell, and  though  I  pretended  that  I  did  not  believe  a 
word  of  what  Mr.  Bryan  had  told  me,  I  found  myself  watch- 
ing him  now  and  then,  and,  sure  enough,  I  caught  him 
bringing  a  king  of  hearts  out  of  his  pocket-handkerchief. 
Of  course,  I  flung  down  my  cards,  and  called  out  '  Cheat ! ' 
as  loud  as  I  could.  There  was  an  awful  row.  Mercier  leaped 
up  and  whipped  a  revolver  out  of  his  pocket,  swearing  all 
the  time  like  mad.  He  leaned  over  the  table,  and  pointed 
it  straight  at  me.    I  thought  I  was  done,  but  all  of  a  sudden, 


218  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

just  as  Mercier's  hand  was  upon  the  trigger,  Mr.  Bryan,  who 
had  been  sitting  close  behind  me,  sent  a  tumbler  full  of 
spirits  straight  in  Mercier's  face,  and  blinded  him.  He 
fired,  but  missed  me.  Then  before  he  could  raise  his  hand 
again,  I  heard  Mr.  Bryan  cry  out  so  that  all  the  glasses  in 
the  place  rattled: 

"  '  Hands  down!    First  man  who  stirs,  I  shoot! ' 

"  I  saw  every  one  in  the  room  go  stiff,  and  there  was  a 
dead  silence.  I  looked  round,  almost  afraid  to  breathe, 
and  there  was  Mr.  Bryan  with  his  back  to  the  wall,  and  a 
revolver  in  each  hand,  one  pointed  dead  at  Mercier,  and  an- 
other towards  a  group  of  his  pals  who  had  been  standing 
round  the  bar.  There  was  such  a  silence  in  the  room  that 
you  could  have  heard  a  pin  drop.  I  could  hear  my  own 
heart  beat,  and  I  could  hear  Mercier  breathing  hard,  and 
glaring  at  Mr.  Bryan  like  a  madman. 

"  Then  Mr.  Bryan  spoke  without  looking  at  me. 

"  '  Get  out  of  this  place,  youngster!'  he  said  quietly. 
1  Out  you  go  this  second ! ' 

"  I  never  thought  of  disobeying  him.  Up  I  got  and 
walked  down  the  room,  and  no  one  offered  to  stop  me.  But 
at  the  door  I  waited.  I  wanted  to  see  the  end.  I  don't 
think  I  ever  remember  anything  so  awful  as  that  silence. 
Every  one  was  glaring  at  Mr.  Bryan,  but  nobody  dared 
move.  All  of  a  sudden  Mercier's  hand  went  up,  and  Mr. 
Bryan's  followed  it  like  lightning.  The  two  shots  rang  out 
almost  together.  Mercier's  was  too  late,  but  "  —  the  boy 
hesitated  —  "  your  shot  went  through  his  heart,  didn't  it?  " 

Bryan  nodded  grimly.  There  was  a  little  audible  stir. 
Lady  Helen  was  very  quiet  and  pale,  and  her  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  Bryan  as  though  she  were  fascinated. 

"  There  was  a  regular  hullabaloo  then! "  Gerald  con- 
tinued. "  The  shots  rang  out  one  after  the  other,  but  the 
place  was  rilled  with  smoke,  and  no  one  could  see  distinctly. 


THE   TOTTERING   OF   THE   BARRIER     219 

I  suppose  that  is  why  Mr.  Bryan  wasn't  much  hurt,  for 
every  one  was  firing  at  him.  Then  I  saw  him  lift  up  one  of 
the  cowboys  who  had  got  close  up  to  him  with  a  knife,  and 
hurl  him  back  amongst  the  others,  knocking  them  down 
like  ninepins.  Oh,  it  was  a  lovely  row !  "  he  went  on,  with  a 
little  burst  of  enthusiam.  "  Then,  when  they  were  all  in  the 
wildest  confusion,  Mr.  Bryan  sprang  to  the  door,  caught  my 
arm,  and  away  we  ran  for  our  lives.  We  didn't  stop  until 
we  got  into  one  of  the  avenues.  Then  he  just  laid  his  hand 
upon  my  shoulder,  and  gave  me  some  good  advice  —  I  didn't 
forget  it,  either  —  and  before  I  could  get  out  a  single  word 
of  thanks,  he  was  gone,  and  I  didn't  know  even  his  name ! 
And,  Mr.  Bryan,"  the  boy  added,  with  a  bright  sparkle  in 
his  eyes,  "  I'm  more  glad  than  I  can  say,  to  find  you  here, 
for  I  owe  you  my  life,  and  I  hope  that  we  shall  be  friends!  " 

He  held  out  his  hand  impulsively,  and  Bryan  took  it. 

"  Don't  think  too  much  of  it,  my  boy!  "  he  said  kindly. 
"  We  get  used  to  rows  out  there,  you  know.  But  I'm  glad 
to  see  you  again  !  " 

Then  his  heart  gave  a  great  throb.  Lady  Helen  had 
glided  before  him,  and  was  looking  into  his  face  with  a  faint 
glow  in  her  cheeks,  and  very  soft  eyes. 

"  Mr.  Bryan,"  she  said,  "  will  you  shake  hands  with  me, 
too?  Gerald  is  my  only  brother,  and  I  could  not  have 
spared  him!  " 

Bryan  could  find  safety  only  in  silence.  A  sudden  fire 
flashed  in  his  eyes  at  the  touch  of  her  soft  fingers,  and  his 
heart  beat  madly.  Then  there  was  a  pause  which,  save  for 
Lord  Wessemer's  tact,  might  have  become  an  awkward 
one. 

"  It  is  really  a  most  marvellous  rencontre ! "  he  said.  "  But 
don't  let  us  overpower  Mr.  Bryan,  or  he  will  begin  to  wish 
that  he  had  left  Gerald  to  fight  his  own  battles.  Suppose 
we  talk  it  over  at  luncheon!  " 


220  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

There  were  several  other  guests  staying  in  the  house,  who 
kept  dropping  in  to  luncheon  one  by  one,  and  notwithstand- 
ing Bryan's  protests,  the  story  was  told  over  a  good  many 
times,  and  he  found  himself  the  recipient  of  a  good  deal  of 
attention.  He  was  sitting  at  Lady  Helen's  right  hand,  and 
he  knew  that  it  was  she  who  had  had  the  places  altered. 

"  I  declare  I  haven't  enjoyed  a  thrill  for  ever  such  a  long 
time!  "  one  young  lady  declared  to  Sir  George  Brankhurst. 
"  Fancy  sitting  at  the  same  table  with  a  man  who  has  killed 
another  man  like  that !  Isn't  it  fascinating?  I  do  wish  that 
I  could  get  to  talk  with  him !  I  shall  make  papa  call,  and 
then  we  may  get  him  to  dinner.  He  looks  the  part  so,  too, 
doesn't  he?  " 

Sir  George  put  up  his  eyeglass,  and  stared  at  Bryan. 

"  Egad,  he  does!  "  he  answered.  "  By-the-bye,  does  any 
one  know  who  he  is  and  where  he  came  from?  " 

"  I  don't  care  a  bit  where  he  came  from,"  the  young  lady 
answered.    "  I  think  he's  lovely!  " 

And  so  Bryan  came  in  for  a  great  deal  of  attention,  and 
received  it  in  such  a  manner  that  no  one  could  possibly 
doubt  but  that  he  was  a  gentleman.  Raymond  Bettesford 
was  so  delighted  that  he  could  scarcely  contain  himself. 

"  I'm  awfully  glad,  old  chap,"  he  exclaimed,  when  they 
were  alone  together  for  a  moment  after  luncheon.  "  Fancy 
your  being  such  an  out-and-out  brick!  " 

"  I  wish  they  wouldn't  make  such  a  fuss!  "  Bryan  an- 
swered, laughing.  "  I  say,  Raymond,"  he  added  seriously, 
"  you  were  opposite  me  at  luncheon.  Did  you  see  anything 
of  the  boor,  eh?  " 

"Not  a  particle!"  cried  Raymond  heartily.  "What 
rubbish !  Why,  you're  a  perfect  avalanche  of  social  success ! 
You  carry  all  before  you!  " 

Gerald  came  up  to  them  just  then,  and  beckoned  Bryan 
away.    "  I  say,  old  chap,  Helen  wants  to  speak  to  you  a 


THE   TOTTERING   OF   THE   BARRIER     221 

minute,"  he  exclaimed.  "  She's  in  the  conservatory.  Come 
on!" 

Bryan  found  her  sitting  alone  in  the  winter  gardens. 
Gerald  strolled  away  for  a  moment  to  find  a  light  for  his 
cigarette.    She  looked  up  at  him,  smiling. 

"I  just  wanted  to  ask  you  to  forgive  me  for  being  very 
rude  last  time  we  met  —  at  Mrs.  Holmes' !  "  she  said  softly. 
"  You  see  —  I  had  no  idea  that  you  were  —  that  you  could 
make  yourself  what  you  are!  That  sounds  horribly  con- 
fused, I  know,  but  it's  your  own  fault.  You  should  not 
make  such  an  enigma  of  yourself!  I  was  rude  because  I 
thought  it  was  for  the  best.    Do  you  see?  " 

"  Perfectly,"  he  answered.  "  It  is  I  who  should  plead  for 
forgiveness.    I  was  rude  and  violent." 

"  You  are  forgiven,"  she  answered  brightly.  "  And  I 
hope  we  shall  be  friends!  " 

"  Will  you  give  me  a  flower?  "  he  asked  simply. 

She  laughed,  and  bending  forward,  broke  off  a  rosebud 
from  one  of  the  climbing  trees. 

"  You  can  have  this,  if  you  like,"  she  said.  "  Take  it 
quickly!  " 

He  took  it,  his  strong  hands  trembling  as  they  touched 
hers.  Then  Gerald's  bright  young  voice  rang  out  from  be- 
hind. 

"  Come  on,  Bryan,  old  chap,  and  see  the  gees." 

He  went  away,  and  Lady  Helen  was  left  alone  under  the 
roses.  She  put  down  her  book,  and  half-closed  her  eyes. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  a  good  deal  to  think  about. 
It  was  like  a  leaf  out  of  a  fairy  tale.  Her  boor  lover  had 
become  a  hero! 


CHAPTER   IX 

"  WHO   ARE   YOU?  " 

A  few  days  after  the  luncheon  party  at  Wessemer  Court, 
Bryan  received  an  unexpected  visit.  He  was  returning  from 
a  walk  to  one  of  his  farms,  and  was  crossing  the  home  field 
on  his  way  to  the  Vicarage,  when  he  saw  a  pair  of  the  fa- 
mous Wessemer  carriage  horses  drawn  up  to  his  door,  and 
Lord  Wessemer  stepping  out  from  the  brougham.  As  Ger- 
ald had  been  rabbit-shooting  with  him  all  the  morning,  and 
had  not  said  a  word  about  any  visit  from  any  member  of  the 
family,  Bryan  at  first  thought  that  he  must  be  mistaken. 
But  when  he  reached  the  ring  fence  and  turned  into  the 
avenue,  he  saw  Lord  Wessemer  standing  upon  his  doorstep. 

He  walked  swiftly  up  the  drive,  and  arrived  just  in  time 
to  stop  the  carriage.  Lord  Wessemer  stepped  out,  and  the 
footman  closed  the  door. 

"  I  am  fortunate,"  the  Earl  remarked  as  they  shook 
hands.  "Iso  seldom  pay  visits  that  it  annoys  me  most  un- 
reasonably to  find  any  one  out." 

"  I'm  glad  I  happened  to  see  you,"  Bryan  answered.  "  I 
thought  I  recognized  your  horses,  so  I  hurried  back.  Won't 
you  come  in?  " 

"  Thank  you." 

Bryan  led  the  way  into  the  library,  wheeled  an  easy-chair 
to  the  fire,  and  rang  the  bell  for  tea. 

"You  learnt  my  weakness  very  early  in  our  acquaintance, 

222 


"WHO   ARE   YOU?"  223 

Mr.  Bryan,"  the  Earl  remarked.    "  I  am  particularly  glad 
to  have  found  you  in.     I  want  to  have  a  little  talk  with 

you." 

By  an  stood  up  on  the  hearthrug  and  bowed.  During  the 
last  few  months  a  wonderful  self-possession  and  restraint 
had  grown  up  within  him.  Lord  Wessemer  looked  at  him 
critically,  studied  his  clothes,  his  bearing,  and  expression, 
and  told  himself  finally  that  the  man  was  a  gentleman. 
There  could  not  possibly  be  any  doubt  about  it. 

"  I  am  sure  you  will  not  misunderstand  what  I  am  going 
to  say,"  he  began  pleasantly.  "  At  any  rate  you  must  give 
me  credit  for  taking  some  considerable  interest  in  you,  or  I 
should  not  be  here  at  all.  I  am  not  one  who,  as  a  rule,  con- 
cerns himself  about  his  neighbour's  business." 

Bryan  bowed.  The  Earl  had  looked  at  him  as  though 
expecting  some  remark,  and  there  was  nothing  which  it 
occurred  to  him  to  say. 

"  Gerald's  narrative  the  other  day,"  he  continued,  "  was 
quite  a  little  drama  in  its  way.  We  are  all  intensely  indebted 
to  you  for  getting  him  out  of  such  a  scrape,  and  I  am  not 
going  to  weary  you  by  talking  about  it.  I  know  that  that 
would  only  bore  you." 

Bryan  made  a  little  gesture  of  relief.  In  truth,  he  was 
sick  of  hearing  it  mentioned. 

"  Naturally  every  one  has  been  talking  a  great  deal  about 
it,  and  after  you  left  every  one  seemed  to  imagine  that  be- 
cause they  had  met  you  at  the  Court,  that  I  could  tell  them 
all  about  you.  But,  as  you  know,  I  was  able  to  do  nothing 
of  the  kind.  Sir  George  Brankhurst  told  me  that  you 
snubbed  him  most  unmercifully  when  he  asked  you  a  ques- 
tion about  your  family.  Was  that  quite  wise?  Now  under- 
stand me,  Mr.  Bryan!  As  Mr.  Bryan  you  will  always  be 
very  welcome  indeed  at  Wessemer  Court,  but  I  should  like 
other  people •  " 


224  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

"  I  do  not  care  anything  about  society,"  Bryan  inter- 
rupted calmly.  "  I  have  no  desire  to  make  acquaintan- 
ces." 

"  But  if  you  intend,  as  I  presume  you  do,  to  take  up  a 
permanent  residence  here,"  Lord  Wessemer  continued, 
"  you  will  sure  find  it  more  pleasant  to  be  on  cordial  terms 
with  your  neighbours.  The  long  and  short  of  it  is,  that  I 
have  come  to  ask  you,  not  for  my  own  sake,  but  for  yours,  a 
blunt  question.  Who  are  you?  Where  did  you  come  from?  " 

Bryan  had  drawn  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  and  his 
face  had  grown  set  and  stern.  He  did  not  answer  for  a  mo- 
ment. His  eyes  seemed  fascinated  by  that  little  streak  of 
far-away  moorland,  of  which  he  could  just  catch  a  glimpse 
through  his  uncurtained  window.  Then  he  turned  towards 
Lord  Wessemer. 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  know,"  he  answered  simply. 

Lord  Wessemer  gave  a  slight  but  distinct  start.  Twice 
within  a  few  days,  this  man,  a  past  master  in  the  noncha- 
lance bred  of  custom  and  habit,  had  lost  control  of  himself 
for  a  minute. 

"  You  do  not  —  know?  "  he  repeated  slowly. 

"  I  do  not.    I  wish  that  I  did !  "  Bryan  answered. 

The  Earl  was  silent.  He  looked  steadily  into  the  fire.  His 
cheek  seemed  a  little  blanched,  and  the  white  hand  which 
supported  it  shook  slightly.  Just  at  that  moment  a  servant 
entered  with  the  tea-tray.  They  were  neither  of  them  very 
sorry  for  the  interruption. 

In  silence,  Bryan  did  the  honours  of  his  little  repast,  and 
brought  out  the  cigarettes.  The  man  was  dismissed  as  soon 
as  possible.  The  Earl  lit  a  cigarette  with  fingers  which  still 
shook  a  little,  and  sipped  his  second  cup  of  tea  absently. 

"  That  is  rather  an  extraordinary  statement  of  yours, 
Mr.  Bryan,"  he  said  at  length. 

"  No  doubt  it  sounds  so,"  Bryan  answered.    "  If  you  care 


"WHO   ARE   YOU?"  225 

to  hear  as  much  of  my  history  as  I  feel  disposed  to  tell  any 
one,  I  will  tell  it  to  you." 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  it  very  much,"  Lord  Wessemer 
answered. 

Bryan  finished  his  tea,  and  set  down  the  cup.  Then  he 
lit  a  cigarette  and  commenced,  still  standing  up  and  looking 
steadily  out  of  the  window. 

"  I  don't  think  that  I  have  a  very  good  memory,"  he  said. 
"  Anyhow,  I  can't  remember  anything  when  I  was  very 
young.  The  first  thing  which  I  can  recollect  is  the  old  farm- 
house where  I  lived  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  the  man  and 
woman  to  whom  it  belonged.  I  called  them  grandfather 
and  grandmother,  but  I  found  out  afterwards  that  they  were 
not  related  to  me  in  any  way.  I  must  have  led  them  a  fear- 
ful life,  for  I  was  a  wild,  harum-scarum  boy,  but  they  were 
very  good  to  me.  I  went  to  an  excellent  school  in  the  neigh- 
bouring town,  or  rather  was  supposed  to,  but  I  stayed  away 
whenever  I  could,  and  went  ferreting  or  rabbiting.  They 
were  very  old  people,  and  they  were  unfortunately  very 
lenient  with  me.  I  did  nearly  what  I  liked.  I  grew  up  as  I 
liked  —  and  that  was  very  badly.  When  I  was  about  four- 
teen years  old,  they  died.  A  Mr.  Jameson,  who  has  since 
died,  but  who  was  then  agent  of  the  nobleman  who  owned 
all  the  land  round,  came  forward  and  declared  himself  my 
guardian.  I  was  sent  to  live  with  some  fresh  people  whom  I 
did  not  like  at  all.  Plenty  of  money  was  found  for  my 
maintenance  and  education,  which  I  was  given  to  under- 
stand had  been  left  me  by  my  grandparents.  I  had  only  to 
ask  for  anything  in  reason  and  I  got  it,  but  I  am  free  to  con- 
fess that  at  that  time  I  was  a  vagabond.  I  ran  away  from 
every  place  I  was  sent  to.  I  built  a  hut  of  my  own,  and 
insisted  upon  living  in  it.  Mr.  Jameson  did  all  he  could  to 
induce  me  to  settle  down  with  any  of  the  farmers  around, 
but  I  declined.    Soon  I  got  such  a  bad  name  that  none  of 


226     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

them  would  have  had  me.  The  history  of  my  life  from  four- 
teen to  twenty  is  simply  a  record  of  vagabondage,  poaching, 
and  fighting! 

"  As  I  grew  up,  I  am  happy  to  say,  I  changed  a  little.  I 
became  curious  to  know  whether  the  old  people  with  whom 
I  first  lived  were  really  my  grandparents,  and  who  I  really 
was.  As  to  the  first,  I  was  soon  satisfied.  I  discovered  that 
they  were  not  related  to  me  in  any  way.  But  as  to  the  sec- 
ond, it  was  a  different  affair.  I  had  been  brought  to  them 
quite  young,  and  they  had  given  out  some  time  before  that 
they  were  going  to  adopt  the  child  of  a  distant  relative.  No 
one  knew  by  whom  I  had  been  brought  to  them,  or  where  I 
was  born.  The  money,  Mr.  Jameson  told  me,  was  mine,  and 
he  showed  me  a  will  signed  by  my  reputed  grandparents, 
leaving  it  to  me.  I  could  discover  nothing  else  about  my- 
self. 

"  One  night,  when  I  was  in  my  hut  alone,  there  came  a 
knock  at  the  door.  A  drunken  man  was  outside,  and  I  let 
him  in  out  of  the  rain.  He  asked  me,  amongst  a  lot  of  inco- 
herent questions,  whether  I  was  not  the  boy  who  had  been 
brought  up  by  the  old  people  at  Weldon's  farm.  I  answered 
eagerly  '  yes,'  and  hoped  that  now  at  last  I  was  going  to 
hear  something.  He  was  so  drunk,  however,  that  I  could 
get  nothing  out  of  him.  In  the  end  I  gave  him  a  shakedown, 
and  left  him  till  morning,  hoping  that  he  would  then  be  able 
to  tell  me  all  I  wanted  to  know.  But  when  the  morning 
came,  his  place  was  empty.    He  had  stolen  away !  " 

Bryan  paused  for  a  moment,  and  relit  his  cigarette  which 
had  gone  out.  With  the  match  between  his  fingers,  he 
glanced  towards  Lord  Wessemer.  His  face  was  in  the 
shadow,  but  he  was  evidently  deeply  interested. 

"  I  hunted  that  man  like  a  bloodhound,"  Bryan  con- 
tinued. "  In  London  I  lost  him.  I  drew  money  from  Mr. 
Jameson,  and  I  went  to  a  detective  agency.    After  months 


"WHO   ARE   YOU?"  227 

of  delay  I  found  out  something  definite.  He  had  sailed  for 
New  York.  I  went  to  Mr.  Jameson  again,  and  told  him  that 
I  was  going  gold-digging.  He  advanced  me  all  the  money  I 
asked  for,  and  I  left  England  for  New  York.  At  New  York 
I  found  out,  after  infinite  pains,  that  he  had  gone  to  San 
Francisco.    I  followed!  " 

"  And  —  did  you  find  him?  " 

"  I  did,  and  I  did  not!  "  Bryan  answered.  "  I  worked 
with  him  on  a  gold-mine  for  months  without  recognizing 
him.  He  died  there,  and  a  bundle  of  letters  came  into  my 
hands.  They  told  me  a  little  —  not  much  —  of  my  mother, 
and  a  little  more  of  my  father.  But  they  only  told  me  their 
Christian  names.  Afterwards,  some  other  letters  came  into 
my  hands  which  had  been  deposited  in  San  Francisco, 
but  some  document  which  was  supposed  to  be  with  them 
was  missing.  They  came  to  me  under  painful  circum- 
stances, and  I  did  not  examine  them  at  the  time!  " 

"  Do  you  expect  ever  to  get  it?  "  Lord  Wessemer 
asked. 

"  Yes,"  Bryan  answered;  "  I  do!  I  have  an  idea  that 
some  day  it  will  come  tome!" 

Then  there  was  a  long  silence  —  broken  at  last  by  Lord 
Wessemer.  He  had  risen  to  his  feet,  and  was  holding  out  his 
hand. 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  confidence,  Mr.  Bryan!  "  he  said 
quietly.  "  I  shall  not  betray  it.  Of  course  you  know  that 
Mr.  Jameson  was  my  agent?  " 

"  Yes,"  Bryan  answered.  "  I  know  that.  I  lived  on 
your  land,  scarcely  twenty  miles  away.  You  were  always 
abroad." 

"Yes!" 

The  two  men  shook  hands.  Looking  closely  into  his 
visitor's  face,  Bryan  was  struck  with  its  intense  deathly 
pallor.    His  skin,  too,  seemed  drawn,  and  there  were  lines 


228  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

under  his  eyes.  He  seemed  to  have  the  look  of  a  much 
older  man. 

"lam  afraid  that  you  have  found  this  room  too  hot," 
Bryan  remarked.    "  You  don't  look  well." 

"  I  have  found  it  very  comfortable,  thank  you,"  Lord 
Wessemer  answered.  "  Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Bryan.  Come 
to  Wessemer  Court  whenever  you  will!  You  will  always  be 
welcome." 

His  tone  had  a  note  of  sincerity  in  it  which  appealed  to 
Bryan.  He  shook  hands  with  his  guest,  and  walked  with 
him  to  the  hall  door. 

"  I  shall  come  very  soon,"  he  said  simply.  "  If  you  don't 
mind  my  lack  of  identity,  I  shall  be  glad  to  come." 

He  watched  the  carriage  drive  off,  thoughtfully.  The 
blinds  were  half  drawn,  and  no  one  could  see  inside;  no  one 
could  see  the  Earl  of  Wessemer,  philosopher,  diplomatist, 
and  Epicurean,  lying  back  in  his  carriage  with  white, 
stricken  face,  and  half-closed  eyes.   He  had  received  a  blow ! 


CHAPTER   X 

LIKE   BAFFLED   BREAKERS  AGAINST  AN   IRON  SHORE 

Before  Lord  Wessemer's  carriage  was  well  out  of  sight, 
Bryan  had  caught  up  his  cap,  and  was  off  towards  the  Vicar- 
age. He  crossed  the  home  field,  a  strip  of  the  moor,  and 
strode  down  the  deep  country  lane  to  where  the  old  yellow 
stone  house  lay  back  behind  a  high  yew  hedge.  He  avoided 
the  front  door,  and  crossing  the  lawn,  entered  softly  by  the 
garden  gate,  and  made  his  way  into  the  drawing-room. 

There  was  only  one  little  rose-shaded  lamp  to  illumine 
the  long,  low  room,  full  of  quaint  recesses  and  shadowy  cor- 
ners, and  at  first  he  thought  that  the  tall,  slim  figure  seated 
by  Miss  Bettesford's  side  was  a  stranger's.  But  as  he 
crossed  the  room  towards  them,  he  saw  who  it  was,  and  his 
heart  gave  a  strong,  wild  beat.  He  was  thankful  then  for 
the  dim  light.  No  one  could  see  the  flush  which  had  crept 
into  his  bronzed  cheek,  or  the  light  which  was  flashing  in 
his  eyes. 

He  shook  hands  with  Miss  Bettesford,  and  bowed  to 
Lady  Helen,  who  welcomed  him  graciously. 

"  I  had  almost  given  you  up,  Bryan/'  Miss  Bettesford 
said,  with  an  unconscious  note  of  reproach  in  her  tone. 
"  Will  you  ring  the  bell  and  have  some  fresh  tea  made?  I 
am  afraid  this  is  quite  cold." 

"  No,  thanks,"  he  answered.  "  I'm  sorry,  but  I  had  a 
visitor,  and  I  had  to  give  him  some  tea.    I  should  have  been 

229 


230  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

here  an  hour  and  a  half  ago,  but  he  just  came  in  as  I  was 
leaving.    He  only  went  ten  minutes  ago." 

"  Was  it  Lord  Wessemer?  "  Raymond  asked.  "  His 
carriage  went  by  just  now,  and  Lady  Helen  was  wondering 
where  it  had  been  to." 

Bryan  nodded  a  little  absently.  He  was  watching  Miss 
Bettesford  with  some  concern.  She  was  paler  even  than 
usual,  to-day,  and  her  eyes  were  bright  and  feverish.  She 
was  looking  into  the  fire,  but  she  appeared  to  be  listening. 

"  Yes,  it  was  Lord  Wessemer,"  he  said. 

Lady  Helen  leaned  forward,  with  slightly  arched  eye- 
brows. 

"  Really!"  she  exclaimed.  "You  ought  to  consider 
yourself  very  much  favoured,  Mr.  Bryan.  Lord  Wessemer 
is  not  fond  of  paying  calls." 

"  He  was  very  kind,"  Bryan  answered  indifferently. 
"  Let  me  arrange  your  cushions,"  he  went  on,  bending  over 
Miss  Bettesford.  "There!  Isn't  that  better?  I'm  afraid 
you're  not  quite  so  well  to-day!  " 

She  leaned  back  in  her  invalid's  chair,  and  looked  up  at 
him  gratefully  out  of  her  soft,  dark  eyes. 

"  Thank  you,  Bryan,"  she  said.  "  I  think  I'm  about  the 
same  as  usual.    A  little  tired  to-day,  perhaps." 

"  I  wonder  if  I  have  been  talking  too  much?  "  Lady 
Helen  asked,  passing  her  cup  to  Bryan.  "  I  believe  I  have! 
I'm  so  sorry!  " 

"  Oh,  no !  I  have  enjoyed  listening  to  you !  "  Miss  Bettes- 
ford assured  her  with  a  faint  smile.  "  It  was  very  good  of 
you  to  come!  You  never  tire  me!  Raymond  likes  me  to 
have  visitors.  He  thinks  it  rouses  me,  and  takes  my  atten- 
tion away  from  myself!  " 

"  I'm  sure  of  it,"  Raymond  remarked.  "  You  get  aw- 
fully dull  if  you  haven't  some  one  to  amuse  you.  I'm  such 
an  old  stick  myself!  " 


LIKE   BAFFLED   BREAKERS  231 

"  I  wish  we  could  induce  you  to  try  a  complete  change, 
and  come  up  to  the  Court,"  Lady  Helen  said.  "  We  have 
a  very  comfortable  low  carriage,  and  some  quiet  ponies  — 
you  wouldn't  be  jolted  a  bit.  Don't  you  think  it  would  do 
her  good,  Mr.  Bryan?  " 

"  I  believe  it  would!  "  he  answered. 

She  shook  her  head.  There  was  a  strange,  sad  look  in  her 
face. 

"  No.    I  think  not !  "  she  said,  in  a  low  tone.    "  It  must  be 

—  twenty  years  since  I  was  at  Wessemer  Court!  " 
"Twenty  years!"  Lady  Helen  exclaimed.     "Twenty 

years!  And  here  you  are  within  half  a  mile  of  our  front 
door!  It  is  perfectly  scandalous!  You  really  must  come. 
Now,  please  make  up  your  mind,  and  tell  me  when  I  may 
send  for  you.  You  shall  come  at  your  own  time,  and  stay 
just  as  long  as  you  like!  Shall  we  say  to-morrow  —  early 
in  the  afternoon?  " 

Miss  Bettesford  shook  her  head. 

"  I  shall  never  come,  Helen!  "  she  said  simply.  "  Don't 
think  me  unkind !    It  would  be  impossible !   That  is  all!  " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence;  and  in  that  silence  one 
of  those  three  who  sat  round  the  fire  felt  a  strange  thrill 
of  wonder  flash  through  his  brain.  It  was  not  easy  to  tell 
what  had  suggested  it  —  something,  perhaps,  in  her  man- 
ner, or,  more  likely  still,  some  magnetic  instinct  born  of  the 
strange  sympathy  there  was  between  those  two.  As  swiftly 
as  it  had  come,  he  cast  it  from  him.     It  was  impossible 

—  utterly,  wholly  impossible !  Yet,  even  while  he  scouted 
it,  there  came  a  swift,  picture-like  recollection  of  that 
strange  meeting  which  he  had  witnessed  in  this  very  room 
only  a  few  days  back.  The  conviction  settled  down  upon 
him  like  a  thunderclap.  There  was  some  bond  between 
these  two :  this  frail,  delicate  woman,  beautiful  even  in  these 
her  later  years,  and  the  Earl  of  Wessemer.    A  bond!    No, 


232     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

not  that  perhaps,  but  some  common  knowledge  of  a  cur- 
tained past,  something  which  drew  them  together,  and  yet 
must  keep  them  for  ever  apart.  What  was  it?  A  dozen 
wild  conjectures  rushed  through  his  mind  before  he  could 
command  his  will  sufficiently  to  set  his  heel  down  upon  all 
those  suspicions  which  seemed  unworthy  of  her.  Surely 
the  very  shadow  of  evil  could  never  touch  her.  She  was  to 
him,  with  her  pale,  delicate  beauty,  and  soft  speech,  the 
very  embodiment  of  dainty  feminine  refinement,  that  most 
attractive  and  fascinating  attribute  of  the  women  into 
whose  world  he  was  passing.  Apart  from  this,  apart  from 
that  curious  affection  which  certainly  had  grown  up  be- 
tween them,  his  very  instincts  revolted  against  these  vague 
speculations.  The  thought  which  had  found  its  way  into 
his  brain  vanished  when  he  looked  at  her,  like  breath  from 
a  mirror. 

There  had  been  a  short  silence.  Something  in  Miss  Bettes- 
ford's  manner  had  forbidden  any  attempt  at  shaking  her 
resolution.  Even  Lady  Helen's  polite  little  speech  of  regret 
died  away  upon  her  lips.  Soon  she  got  up  and  said  that  she 
must  go. 

"  We  have  been  chattering  away  so  that  I  quite  forgot 
the  time!  "  she  declared.    "  It  is  almost  dark  now." 

"  The  boys  will  walk  across  the  park  with  you,"  Miss 
Bettesford  said,  as  she  shook  hands  with  her  visitor. 

"  It  really  is  not  necessary!  "  Lady  Helen  protested. 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  think  it  is  very  necessary!  "  Ray- 
mond said,  smiling.  "  Only  I  am  afraid  that  I  shall  have 
to  depute  Bryan  to  be  sole  escort.  I  have  some  accounts  to 
go  through  with  my  school  manager,  and  here  he  comes." 

Bryan  did  not  say  anything,  but  he  picked  up  his  cap,  and 
stood  by  her  side.  Lady  Helen  looked  at  him  doubt- 
fully. 

"  I  really  don't  think  that  I  need  trouble  you,  Mr. 


LIKE   BAFFLED   BREAKERS  233 

Bryan/'  she  said.  "lam  quite  sure  that  I  know  the  way, 
and  there  is  never  anybody  in  the  park." 

"  I  will  come  —  if  you  don't  mind/'  he  said  bluntly. 

She  made  no  further  objection,  and  he  followed  her  out 
into  the  garden,  and  through  the  little  swing-gate  opposite 
which  led  into  the  park.  Side  by  side  they  walked  together 
across  the  smooth,  short  turf.  He  was  silent  for  a  few 
minutes,  walking  with  his  hands  behind  his  back,  and  every 
now  and  then  watching  her  covertly.  Her  manner  had 
none  of  the  implied  graciousness  of  a  few  days  ago;  he 
could  almost  have  imagined  that  those  few  minutes  in  the 
conservatory  had  been  a  dream.  But  he  did  not  lose 
courage. 

"  You  see  the  education  of  the  boor  is  in  its  first  stage, 
Lady  Helen,"  he  said. 

She  looked  at  him,  with  a  faint  smile  at  the  corner  of  her 
lips. 

"  I  should  have  said  that  it  had  passed  the  first  stage," 
she  replied.  "  You  have  learnt  a  good  many  things  even 
since  we  met  at  Weldon's  farm." 

"  I  have  had  some  inducement  to  learn/'  he  answered 
quietly. 

She  frowned. 

"  You  did  not  tell  me  then  of  the  alteration  in  your  for- 
tunes," she  said.  "  You  must  have  made  a  good  deal  of 
money  in  California!  " 

"  I  have  a  partner  who  makes  it  for  me,"  he  answered. 
"  He  is  one  of  the  best  fellows  in  the  world  —  and  certainly 
one  of  the  most  honest.  Some  day  I  should  like  to  tell  you 
all  about  him." 

She  bowed  her  head  slightly,  without  evincing  any  par- 
ticular interest. 

"  You  see  a  good  deal  of  the  Bettesfords,  don't  you?  " 
she  remarked,  after  a  brief  pause. 


_  I     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

"  V  ttesi  .1  has  bo 

kid.    '"V.  tog  .    -     I  realty  had 

some  sort  of  an  education,  and  it  is  coming  back  to  on    — 

You  areamr      mysterious  being!  "  I 

could  not  - .  -  le  f or  any  one  to 

her  earnestly.    T 
through  a  fit!  of  pines 

riding  out  dark  a    I  rig  :  as  though  they 

were  painted  on  sound  any- 

where, save  tl  d  footfall  upon  the  50ft  turf  and  fallen 

■■  I:  u  ool  "  ful  to  m  I  think  of  the  in 

-   juite 
.  ;.  I  uf  I  think  bo.    I  mean  that  th 
something  in  my  heart  —  jus  I 

west  wind  is 
driv  -top 

it.    N 

.   .  .  upon  him.    It  wai      "  r  for 

him,  she  had  alto- 

g 

•  I  id  slowly.    '■  I  do  not 

it  you  are  talking  about. 
5 to  me.     I 
.  .  ambition  fa 
and  :  i  in  life.    1  alL" 

lie  of  the  path,  a  te  invol- 

did  the  same.    They  stood  for  a  i  I  face 

Bryan, 
res  all  a. 
se. 
*'  I  do  not  '  an  that.  L    "  You  do  un- 


LIKE    BAFFLED   BREAKERS  235 

derstand,  you  must  understand,  that  desire  which  is  as  the 

breath  of  my  body  to  me.  Mind,  it  was  not  I  who  spoke  of 
it  to-day.  It  was  you.  I  am  in  no  hurry.  I  know  that  my 
time  has  not  yet  come.    But  I  shall  wait,  and  I  shall  hope." 

She  hurried  along,  with  an  angry  tinge  of  colour  in  her 
cheeks,  and  a  superb  disdain  in  every  movement.  Bryan 
kept  his  eyes  fixed  upon  her,  and  he  ground  his  teeth. 
Surely  she  was  the  most  beautiful  of  all  proud  women. 

"  You  are  talking  folly,"  she  said  scornfully.  "  I  should 
be  very  sorry  to  damp  any  of  your  most  laudable  desires, 
but  if  you  persist  in  these  enigmatic  assertions,  I  shall  cease 
to  regard  you  in  any  other  light  than  as  a  complete  stranger. 
Your  common  sense  ought  to  tell  you  how  ridiculous  it  is  to 
talk  like  that  to  me.  I  consider  it  an  unwarrantable  pre- 
sumption! " 

There  was  a  light  flashing  for  a  moment  in  his  eyes  and 
across  his  face,  which  it  was  well  that  she  could  not 
see. 

"  I  will  answer  you  out  of  one  of  the  books  which  the  men 
and  the  women  of  your  world  often  quote,"  he  answered. 
"  I  read  yesterday  that  the  meanest  man  has  a  right  to  love 
the  proudest  lady,  if  only  he  does  so  with  respect  and  sin- 
cerity. You  may  be  the  proudest  lady,  Lady  Helen  —  I  do 
not  think  that  there  are  many  prouder  than  you  —  but  I 
am  not  the  meanest  man,  and,  with  all  possible  respect  — 
I  love  you!  " 

She  drew  her  skirts  into  her  hand,  and  flashed  an  angry, 
scornful  glance  upon  him.    He  was  not  in  the  least  abashed. 

"  Insolent!  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  confess  that  you  are  a 
complete  disappointment  to  me,  Mr.  Bryan.  I  felt  some 
interest  in  you  on  account  of  your  determined  efforts  to  im- 
prove yourself  and  your  position,  and  because  of  your  kind- 
ness to  my  brother.  I  was  disposed  to  be  on  friendly  terms 
with  you,  and  the  result  is  that  you  persist  in  talking  like  a 


236     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

lunatic.  You  are  hopeless.  I  prefer  to  go  the  rest  of  the 
way  by  myself,  please.    Kindly  leave  me!  " 

"  At  that  gate,"  he  answered,  pointing  a  little  further  on. 
"  I  promise  not  to  speak  another  word  until  we  get  there.'' 

She  hesitated,  but  he  had  evidently  not  the  slightest  in- 
tention of  leaving  her.  She  could  see  that  in  his  set  face 
and  firmly-drawn  lips.  So  she  yielded,  a  little  annoyed  with 
herself  for  doing  so. 

He  kept  his  compact,  and  walked  by  her  side  in  silence 
to  the  gate.  As  he  held  it  open  their  eyes  met.  His  strong 
face  showed  no  signs  of  despair,  or  even  disappointment. 
On  the  contrary,  his  eyes  met  hers  frankly,  and  he  smiled 
as  he  raised  his  cap.  For  a  moment  her  heart  failed  her. 
His  calm  doggedness,  the  air  of  conscious  and  innate 
strength  which  seemed  typified  in  his  iron  lips  and  vigorous 
face,  almost  frightened  her.  He  had  gained  so  much,  so 
vigorously,  and  so  powerfully.  The  ragged  poacher,  the 
vagabond  and  pest  of  the  village  stood  before  her,  the  owner 
of  a  beautiful  home,  well  dressed,  possessed  of  at  least  an 
average  share  of  savoir  faire,  calm  and  confident.  In  her 
heart  she  knew  quite  well  that  all  unwittingly  the  seed  had 
been  of  her  own  sowing,  and  for  the  first  time  she  felt  a  cer- 
tain fear,  almost  dislike,  of  him.  The  will  which  had  ac- 
complished all  these  things  must  soon  be  at  war  with  hers. 
There  could  be  but  one  ending  possible,  and  yet  she  shrank 
from  the  contest. 


CHAPTER   XI 

ON  THE   OTHER  SIDE   OF  THE  GULF 

A  county  which  had  the  reputation  of  ultra  exclusiveness, 
determined,  with  a  unanimity  which  was  really  remarkable, 
to  waive  all  its  prejudices  in  favour  of  Mr.  Bryan  Bryan,  of 
the  Old  Hall.  It  was  odd  how  it  all  came  about.  With  the 
women  the  fact  that  Bryan  was  a  bachelor,  a  man  of  strik- 
ing appearance,  and  had  the  reputation  of  marvellous 
wealth,  no  doubt  had  something  to  do  with  it.  With  the 
men,  the  Earl  of  Wessemer's  friendship,  and  his  own  quali- 
ties, stood  him  in  more  need.  Bryan,  in  all  that  he  said  or 
did,  was  perfectly  natural,  good-natured,  and  yet  strikingly 
self-reliant ;  added  to  which  he  was  a  deadly  shot,  a  magnif- 
icent rider,  and  a  good  all-round  sportsman.  The  resources 
of  the  Old  Hall  were  speedily  added  to,  and  he  soon  found 
himself,  when  it  was  required  (and  that  was  not  seldom), 
able  to  give  his  men  callers  an  excellent  luncheon  and  some 
capital  wine.  Sir  George  Brankhurst,  the  M.F.H.,  acting 
upon  a  hint  from  Lord  Wessemer,  called  a  few  days  after  the 
luncheon  party  at  Wessemer  Court,  and  a  week  or  two  later 
the  hounds  met  at  the  Old  Hall.  Bryan's  hospitality  was 
unlimited,  and  for  the  first  time  he  saw  Lady  Helen,  with  a 
curiously  deep  thrill,  beneath  his  roof.  From  that  day  there 
was  no  longer  any  question  as  to  his  position,  but  there  re- 
mained a  large  share  of  curiosity.    His  antecedents  were 

237 


238     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

completely  mythical.  Nobody  seemed  to  know  anything 
whatever  about  them. 

His  sudden  plunge  into  a  society  to  which  he  was  alto- 
gether unaccustomed  did  not  affect  Bryan  in  the  slightest. 
He  soon  became  on  pleasant  terms  with  the  men  with  whom 
he  was  brought  into  contact,  but  so  far  as  possible  he  re- 
mained aloof  from,  if  he  did  not  actually  avoid,  the  women. 
Some  time  during  the  day  he  always  spent  with  Raymond 
Bettesford,  and  it  was  very  seldom  indeed  that  he  was  miss- 
ing from  the  Vicarage  drawing-room  at 'dusk. 

It  was  half-past  four,  and,  after  many  glances  at  the  tiny 
clock,  Miss  Bettesford  had  rung  for  tea,  and  sent  to  his  study 
for  Raymond.  But  the  tray  was  scarcely  moved  up  to  her 
side,  and  the  lamp  lit,  when  the  little  lane  outside  seemed 
to  be  shaken  with  the  clattering  hoofs  of  a  galloping  horse. 
They  heard  a  familiar  voice  giving  a  few  orders  to  a  groom, 
and  in  a  moment  or  two  Bryan,  splashed  with  mud  from 
head  to  foot,  stood  in  the  low  doorway. 

"  May  I  come  in?  "  he  asked  in  his  deep  bass  voice.  "  I 
am  a  very  pillar  of  mud!  " 

Miss  Bettesford  looked  up  smiling.  She  always  smiled 
when  Bryan  came. 

"  Of  course  you  may,"  she  answered.  "  Do  you  want  to 
wash?  " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  good,"  he  answered,  undoing  the  cord  from 
his  tall  hat,  all  ruffled  and  scratched,  and  setting  it  down 
upon  a  table.  "  The  wind  has  dried  it  all  on.  I'll  wait  till 
I  get  home  and  can  have  a  bath." 

He  let  himself  carefully  down  into  one  of  the  low  wicker 
chairs,  and  looked  distrustfully  at  the  teapot.  Miss  Bettes- 
ford followed  his  eyes,  and  laughed  outright. 

"  I  had  given  you  up,  and  ordered  the  small  one,"  she 
explained.  "  Jane,  make  some  more  tea,  and  tell  cook  to  cut 
some  sandwiches." 


ON  THE   OTHER  SIDE   OF  THE  GULF    239 

"  And  a  breakfast-cup,"  Raymond  put  in.  "  I  know  a 
starving  man  when  I  see  one.  Give  him  something  to  start 
with,  Auntie." 

Bryan  laughed  as  he  took  his  tea  and  doubled  up  his 
bread-and-butter. 

"  We've  had  a  glorious  day,"  he  said;  "  but  hounds  took 
us  right  into  the  forest  country,  and  I  never  got  my  second 
horse  at  all.  Just  picked  him  up  on  the  way  home,  not  a 
mile  from  here.  I  made  sure  of  being  at  Longton  Spinnies, 
and  John  had  my  sandwich-case.    Hence  this  voracity." 

"  Did  you  kill?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  twenty  miles  from  home,  and  the  Lord  only  knows 
where!  "  Bryan  answered.  "  It  was  a  strange  country  to 
every  one  of  us.  I've  nearly  killed  my  horse,  I'm  afraid. 
Was  ever  anything  in  the  world  so  good  as  this  tea,  I 
wonder?  " 

They  talked  about  the  run  and  the  people  who  were  there 
for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  Raymond  got  up. 

"  I  must  go  and  see  old  Mrs.  Elwick,"  he  said.  "  Coming 
down  to-morrow  morning,  Bryan?  " 

"  Would  you  mind  coming  up  to  me?  "  Bryan  asked, 
holding  out  his  empty  cup.  "  Delagood  and  Captain 
Hawkesworth  are  coming  over  to  lunch,  and  there  are  one  or 
two  more  men  likely  to  drop  in.  I  thought  if  you  could  get 
up  at  about  eleven,  we  could  have  an  hour  to  ourselves." 

"  All  right,"  Raymond  answered.  "  I  like  your  luncheon 
parties.    No  ladies  coming,  are  there?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  entertain  ladies,"  Bryan  answered  drily. 

Raymond  went  out,  and  Bryan  and  Miss  Bettesford  were 
left  alone.  He  finished  his  tea,  and  lit  a  cigarette.  It  was 
understood  that  this  was  always  to  be  done. 

Bryan  had  been  looking  thoughtfully  in  the  fire,  and  the 
silence  between  them  had  lasted  for  some  time.  Suddenly 
he  looked  up,  and  found  her  eyes  fixed  steadily  upon  him. 


240  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT  SNARE 

"  Bryan,"  she  said  softly,  "  I  was  wondering  a  little  at 
the  tone  of  your  last  speech.    Are  you  a  woman-hater?  " 

He  took  her  thin  white  hand  into  his,  and  stroked  it 
tenderly. 

"  Are  not  you  a  woman?  "  he  said. 

She  laughed  quietly,  and  looked  at  him  with  soft,  dim 
eyes. 

"  I  am  an  old  woman,  Bryan;  and  it  is  not  of  old  women 
that  I  was  thinking." 

"  Old!  "  he  repeated,  with  gentle  scorn. 

"  Old  enough  to  be  your  mother,  Bryan!  I  am  thankful 
for  it.  I  would  not  be  a  year  younger,  a  year  further  away 
from  the  end.  But  never  mind  that.  Tell  me.  They  say 
that  you  never  seem  to  care  about  talking  to  any  of  the  girls 
round  here.  Lady  Brankhurst  got  positively  indignant 
about  it  the  other  day.  She  has  eight  daughters,  and  she 
thinks  you  ought  to  marry." 

There  was  no  answer.  Bryan  had  risen  to  his  feet,  and 
was  standing  upon  the  hearthrug.  Miss  Bettesford  aban- 
doned her  half-playful  tone,  and  laid  her  hand  upon  his 
arm. 

"  Bryan,"  she  said  earnestly,  "  I  have  sometimes  won- 
dered —  is  your  heart  quite  so  hard  as  people  think?  Is 
there  not  some  one  —  whom  you  think  of  a  good  deal; 
some  one " 

He  looked  down  at  her.  The  lines  in  his  face  had  sud- 
denly relaxed.  Then,  with  a  quick  impulse,  he  dropped 
down  on  one  knee  and  took  both  her  hands  in  his. 

"  May  I  tell  you?  "  he  said,  his  deep  voice  a  little  un- 
steady.   "  I  should  like  to;  I  think  it  would  do  me  good." 

She  laid  her  hand  caressingly  on  his  clustering  wind- 
tossed  hair,  and  smoothed  it. 

"  Yes,  tell  me,"  she  whispered.  "  I  should  like  to  hear 
everything! " 


ON  THE   OTHER  SIDE   OF  THE   GULF    241 

He  drew  a  deep  breath.  The  strong,  deep  passion  of  the 
man  was  working  itself  out  between  the  lines  of  his  story. 

"  I  was  a  vagabond  when  I  was  a  boy/'  he  said.  "  I 
have  told  you  that  already.  No  one  could  do  anything  with 
me.  I  poached,  drank,  swore,  and  did  all  manner  of  evil. 
One  day  I  saved  a  little  girl's  life.  She  was  kind  to  me.  I 
had  never  seen  anything  like  her,  and  I  thought  she  was  an 
angel.  When  I  heard  who  she  was,  I  cursed.  She  was  a 
lady,  and  I  —  was  a  vagabond.  There  was  a  great  gulf  be- 
tween us.  That  night  I  got  drunk,  but  on  the  morrow  I  lay 
all  day  on  the  hills,  looking  at  the  great  house  where  she 
lived,  and  I  made  a  resolution.  I  would  turn  over  a  new 
leaf.  I  would  throw  myself  headlong  into  that  gulf,  and  I 
would  come  out  on  the  other  side." 

"  Poor  boy,"  she  whispered,  "  poor  boy!  Was  there  no 
one  to  look  after  you?  " 

"  Not  a  soul!  My  mother  must  either  have  died,  or  she 
must  have  been  a  very  wicked  woman.    I  " 

"  Don't,  please  don't!" 

Bryan  looked  down  in  surprise.  She  had  stopped  him 
with  a  sharp  little  cry  of  pain. 

"  I  —  I  don't  like  to  hear  you  speak  harshly  of  her,"  she 
said,  with  a  little  shudder.  "  You  do  not  know !  She  may 
not  have  been  to  blame!  " 

Her  white,  pleading  face  checked  the  reply  which  had 
risen  to  his  lips.    He  could  not  bear  to  give  her  pain. 

"  That  may  be  so,"  he  answered.  "  Anyhow,  I  was 
brought  up  by  an  old  couple  who  were  notoriously  not  re- 
lated to  me.  I  had  money  when  I  chose  to  fetch  it,  but  not 
one  friend;  no  one  to  encourage  me;  not  a  soul  to  sym- 
pathize with  me !  It  was  very  lonely  in  those  days." 

"  My  poor  boy!  " 

"  Well,  a  drunken  man  came  reeling  into  my  cottage  one 
night,  and  he  let  fall  some  hints  which  set  me  all  on  fire.  He 


242  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT  SNARE 

told  me,  in  his  incoherent  way,  that  he  knew  who  I  was; 
and  to  know  that  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  first  step  towards 
fortune.  In  the  morning  he  had  stolen  away ;  but  I  followed 
him  all  over  the  world.  I  did  not  succeed  altogether,  and 
yet  I  succeeded  in  part.  But  I  found  gold,  and  I  found  an 
honest  partner.  You  know  all  that  part  of  the  story.  But 
there  is  a  part  of  my  life  in  California  which  you  do  not 
know,  and  which,  God  help  me,  I  must  tell  you !  " 

His  face  had  grown  suddenly  white  and  strained.  Worse 
than  anything  else  upon  the  earth,  or  under  the  earth,  he 
dreaded  the  wildly  sweet  memory  of  those  days  of  his 
bondage. 

"  Never  mind,  Bryan,"  she  whispered,  "  I  shall  not 
judge  you  hardly.    Good  God !  I  shall  not  judge  you  at  all ! " 

u  So  long  as  you  do  not  turn  me  away,  and  tell  me  not  to 
come  here  any  more,  I  shall  feel  better  for  having  told  you," 
he  said.  "  San  Francisco  is  a  wild,  evil  place,  and  the  men 
there  lead  wild,  evil  lives.  There  was  —  a  girl.  She  was 
in  trouble,  and  I  helped  her.  She  came  to  me  —  if  it  had 
not  been  me  it  would  have  been  some  one  else  —  and  — 
and  she  lived  with  me.  It  was  a  strange,  wonderful  time. 
She  was  beautiful,  and  in  a  way  —  I  think  —  I  am  afraid 
—  I  must  have  loved  her!  She  was  not  wicked.  She  had 
been  cruelly  treated.  Her  beauty  was  marvellous.  It  fas- 
cinated me;  it  seemed  to  corrupt  my  very  soul!  It  was 
what  I  had  sworn  should  never  happen  —  and  it  happened  \ 
But  there  came  a  time  when  I  loathed  myself.  One  night  I 
woke  up,  I  dreamed  that  she  —  had  seen  me !  I  got  up  and 
dressed  quietly,  and  hurried  away.  I  left  half  my  money 
behind,  and  I  fled.  That  day  I  went  to  the  gold-diggings. 
I  thought  that  I  was  safe  there,  but  I  was  not.  She  loved 
me,  and  she  followed  me.  She  followed  across  the  burning 
plains  and  the  wild,  bare  desert;  a  week's  journey,  and  no 
human  soul  with  her;  she  who  hated  the  darkness,  and  was 


ON  THE   OTHER  SIDE   OF  THE  GULF     243 

frightened  at  a  shadow.  What  could  I  do?  God!  what 
could  I  do?  We  left  the  place  together,  and  in  the  desert 
she  saved  my  life.  She  had  scarcely  fired  a  pistol  in  her  life, 
yet  she  shot  the  man  through  the  heart  who  tried  to  kill  me ! 
I  had  a  fever.  She  nursed  me  through  it.  She  took  me, 
almost  dying,  to  her  rooms  at  San  Francisco,  and  she  sold 
her  jewels  and  the  clothes  from  her  back  to  buy  food  and 
wine  for  me.  And  when  I  cried  out  to  come  to  England,  she 
sold  herself,  and  it  was  with  her  money  that  I  came !  Oh, 
God!" 

He  wiped  the  drops  of  perspiration  from  his  burning  fore- 
head.   Death  itself  would  have  seemed  less  bitter  than  this. 

"My  poor  boy!" 

It  was  all  she  said,  but  it  soothed  him. 

"  You  do  not  utterly  despise  me?  "  he  faltered. 

"  Despise  you  —  no!  And  she  —  how  good  she  was  to 
you!" 

"  Yes;  she  was  good  to  me  —  too  good!  And  I  have  been 
a  vile  brute !  Sometimes  now  —  at  nights,  or  when  I  am 
riding  alone,  I  fancy  I  see  her  in  San  Francisco,  looking 
across  the  ocean,  looking  for  me  with  her  dark,  sad  eyes. 
Ah!" 

"  Poor  girl!  "  she  whispered.    "  What  was  her  name?  " 

"Myra!" 

"  Poor  Myra !    My  poor  boy !  " 

There  was  a  long  silence.  The  touch  of  her  fingers  upon 
his  hair  seemed  to  soothe  him.    Gradually  he  grew  calmer. 

"  Tell  me  —  about  the  English  girl.  Have  you  seen 
her?" 

He  drew  himself  out  of  her  arms,  and  looked  at  her 
steadily. 

"  You  have  not  guessed,  then?  " 

"No!" 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  sudden  blanching  of  her  own 


244  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

cheeks.    One  hand  she  pressed  against  her  heart.    She  felt 
that  she  was  on  the  verge  of  a  shock. 

"  It  is  Lady  Helen!  "  he  said.  "  Do  you  think  that  I  am 
mad?  " 

She  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  and  a  sudden  ashen  pallor 
spread  itself  over  her  face.  He  was  alarmed,  and  would 
have  rung  or  called  for  help,  but  her  fingers  detained  him. 
In  a  moment  she  reopened  her  eyes. 

"  Lady  Helen!  "  she  repeated.  "  That  is  what  brought 
you  here  to  live,  then?  " 

"  Yes!  I  suppose  I  am  a  fool,  but  I  must  fulfil  my  des- 
tiny.   My  folly  has  made  me  what  I  am.  I  must  follow  it." 

The  sorrowing  light  of  an  ineffable  pity  shone  in  her  deli- 
cate face. 

"  Bryan,"  she  whispered.    "  Does  she  know?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered.    "  She  knows!  " 

"  She  has  not  encouraged  you?  " 

"  No;  the  time  is  not  ripe  for  that,  yet." 

"  My  poor,  poor  boy!  " 

He  leaned  forward  again. 

"  Don't  you  think  there  is  any  chance  for  me?  "  he  said 
hoarsely. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  think  that  there  is  no  chance,"  she  answered.  "  Lady 
Helen  is,  of  all  the  Wessemers  I  ever  knew,  the  proudest. 
She  will  never  be  able  to  forget  what  you  were.  She  will 
never  marry  you.  She  has  not  soul  enough  to  appreciate 
what  you  have  done.  She  is  a  Wessemer,  body,  and  blood, 
and  soul,  and  they  are  a  cruel  race.    My  poor  boy !  " 

He  stood  up,  and  lifted  his  clenched  fists  above  his  head 
so  that  they  struck  the  ceiling.  A  little  cry  of  pain  broke 
from  his  lips. 

"  I  must  have  her!  "  he  said.  "  My  desire  for  her  is  the 
very  salt  of  my  life.    I  will  have  her!    Perhaps,"  he  added, 


ON   THE   OTHER  SIDE   OF  THE  GULF     245 

"  perhaps  the  lawyers  who  are  working  for  me  in  London 
may  find  out  the  truth  about  myself.  They  may  find  that 
there  is  a  name  which  I  have  a  right  to,  perhaps  a  good  one. 
Surely  she  would  forget  the  past  then.  You  think  so,  don't 
you?  " 

He  turned  towards  her  eagerly,  but  she  was  lying  back 
in  her  chair  with  half-closed  eyes.  She  had  no  answer  to 
give  him,  save  that  little  moan  which  stole  from  between 
her  white  lips  like  the  cry  of  a  soul  in  agony.  He  leant 
down  and  caught  her  hand.  It  was  cold  and  lifeless.  Her 
eyes  were  closed.  For  a  little  while  he  could  torture  her  no 
more.   She  had  fainted ! 


CHAPTER   XII 

THE   SUNLIGHT  OF  HOPE 

For  the  third  time  in  succession  Bryan  turned  away  with 
darkened  face  from  the  Vicarage  door,  without  having  seen 
Miss  Bettesford.  She  was  too  ill  to  come  down,  she  had 
sent  word  —  too  ill  to  see  any  one.  For  more  than  an  hour 
he  had  watched  Lord  Wessemer's  carriage  waiting  in  the 
narrow  lane  outside  the  gate;  had  seen  the  Earl  himself 
come  out,  walking  with  bowed  head  and  unsteady  gait,  and 
be  driven  rapidly  away.  Yet,  when  he  himself,  a  few 
minutes  later,  walked  into  the  little  drawing-room,  and  sent 
up  a  message  to  her,  together  with  a  great  bunch  of  Parma 
violets  which  he  had  ridden  twenty  miles  to  fetch,  she  was 
too  ill  to  see  him.    She  was  not  coming  down. 

He  turned  away  with  a  curious  pain  at  his  heart,  and 
setting  his  teeth,  strode  away  towards  the  open  country. 
It  was  a  gray,  windy  afternoon,  and  a  salt  breeze  was  blow- 
ing in  from  the  sea,  filling  the  air  with  moisture,  and  carry- 
ing the  white  spray  in  little  clouds  far  inland  across  the 
rolling  moors.  He  faced  the  wind  and  walked  against  it, 
finding  a  certain  vague  relief  in  the  strong  gusts  which 
forced  him  to  put  out  his  strength  to  subdue  them,  and  in 
the  deep  gullies  over  which  he  leaped  with  unseeing  reckless- 
ness. It  was  a  gray  afternoon  indeed.  Never  had  he  been 
so  near  the  bitter  black  waters  of  despair,  never  had  all  that 

246 


THE   SUNLIGHT   OF   HOPE  247 

he  had  gained  seemed  so  little  and  of  so  small  avail.  For 
the  first  time  he  thought  of  those  days  in  California  with  a 
distinct  and  certain  regret.  Never  had  that  wild  freedom 
of  body  and  soul  seemed  so  attractive  to  him.  A  touch  of 
the  old  vagabondage  stole  into  his  blood.  He  longed  to  tear 
off  his  well-fitting  tweed  shooting-suit,  and  to  go  in  rags,  to 
drink,  laugh,  shout,  sleep  in  the  open  air  with  the  moon  to 
watch  through  the  trees  at  night,  and  the  sun  to  call  him  up 
at  dawn.  He  thought  of  the  Blue  River,  the  morning 
plunges  into  the  deep  cool  waters,  the  great  snow-capped 
mountains  set  in  violet  dawnlight,  of  the  hard  physical  toil, 
and  the  excitement  of  gold-finding.  Wild  visions  of  Myra, 
with,  her  dark  glowing  beauty  and  strange,  wild  grace, 
flashed  across  his  mind.  He  cried  out  her  name,  and  the 
wind  bore  it  away  behind  him.  At  that  moment  he  longed 
for  her,  longed  for  her  to  twine  her  arms  around  his  neck, 
and  cover  his  face  with  her  passionate  kisses.  He  was  a  fool 
not  to  have  stayed  with  her !  He  was  a  fool  not  to  have  for- 
gotten this  fair,  proud  girl,  in  whose  sight  he  was  but  as  the 
ashes  and  dust  beneath  her  feet.  And  this  other  woman  had 
loved  him.  She  had  given  her  life,  and  more  than  her  life, 
for  his  sake.  The  utter  barbarous  brutality  of  his  desertion 
of  her  came  back  to  him  with  a  rush.  He  saw  the  agony  in 
her  white  face,  and  the  unconscious  reproach  in  her  dark, 
dim  eyes.  Well  he  was  paying  for  his  folly,  for  his  wicked- 
ness. To-day,  his  present,  his  whole  environment  seemed 
like  a  dream.  He  was  Bryan  Bryan,  of  Wessemer  Old  Hall, 
no  longer.  It  was  unreal,  thin,  intangible !  He  had  made  a 
fool's  blunder.  The  best  thing  he  could  do  would  be  to  take 
the  next  boat  to  New  York,  to  seek  out  Myra  and  make  her 
happy,  and  live  amongst  the  men  and  women  who  would 
never  ask  him  who  he  was  and  whence  he  came.  He  was 
out  of  his  place  here.  He  had  no  right  ever  to  have  taken 
the  hand  of  that  sweet-faced,  gentle  woman,  whose  delicate 


248  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

purity  he  had  outraged  by  his  presence  and  his  confession. 
He  would  never  see  her  again.  It  was  not  likely  that  she 
would  care  to  see  him.  She  knew  him  now  for  what  he  was, 
and  she  despised  him !    Better 

His  heart  gave  a  mighty  leap,  and  for  just  a  moment, 
trees  and  sky  spun  round  before  his  eyes.  Of  all  persons  in 
the  world,  the  one  whom  he  least  expected  to  see  was  com- 
ing up  the  hillside  towards  him. 

He  folded  his  arms,  and  leaned  against  a  rock,  waiting 
for  her  coming,  unconsciously  forming  a  striking  picture 
against  the  empty  background  of  sky  and  air.  She  looked 
up,  and,  seeing  him  ahead,  half  hesitated.  That  moment 
seemed  to  him  as  though  it  would  never  end ;  in  reality,  her 
hesitation  was  very  brief  indeed.  She  came  on  towards  him, 
calling  to  the  dogs  by  which  she  was  surrounded,  and  then 
greeting  him  with  a  movement  of  her  head  more  imperious 
than  gracious. 

"  Have  you  seen  Gerald?  "  she  called  out,  pausing  a  few 
yards  away.  "  I  thought  they  were  shooting  over  here,  but 
I  haven't  heard  a  gun." 

He  had  taken  off  his  cap,  and  stood  with  it  in  his  hand. 
The  wild  disquiet  of  a  few  minutes  ago  seemed  to  have 
passed  away  like  a  dream.  At  no  time  had  he  felt  more 
confidence  in  himself  than  he  felt  in  the  first  glow  of  this 
sudden  reaction  from  the  depths  of  despair. 

"  Gerald  had  lunch  with  me,"  he  answered.  "  He  was 
going  to  meet  Hamilton  and  another  man  —  Dixon,  I 
think  —  at  Welby  turn,  and  then  they  were  going  to  shoot 
over  the  Welby  turnips,  and  home  across  the  moor.  I 
should  think  that  they  would  be  here  in  an  hour." 

She  stooped  and  patted  one  of  the  dogs  carelessly. 

"  No  sport  for  you  to-day,  Tony,"  she  said.  "  Gerald 
couldn't  find  Tony  when  he  started,  so  I  promised  that  I 
would  bring  him  if  I  could.     But  I  can't  wait  an  hour." 


THE   SUNLIGHT   OF   HOPE  249 

She  stood  still  for  a  moment,  looking  at  the  view.  Then 
she  called  the  dogs  together. 

"  May  I  walk  with  you  a  little  way?  "    he  asked. 

She  looked  at  him,  and  understood.  A  woman  is  quick 
at  such  things.  Despite  her  self-control,  which  was  im- 
mense, and  her  natural  coldness,  her  heart  beat  a  shade 
faster.  And  yet  how  ridiculous  it  was!  Perhaps  it  would 
be  best  to  let  him  speak,  and  to  give  him  such  an  answer 
as  must  silence  him  for  ever. 

"  If  you  like/'  she  answered  indifferently.  "  I  thought 
you  were  going  the  other  way,  and  I  was  going  to  ask  you 
to  take  Tony." 

"  I  will  take  him  back  with  pleasure,  if  you  will  let  me 
come  a  little  way  with  you  first,"  he  said. 

She  made  no  answer,  and  they  walked  along  the  broad, 
rough  path  together,  and  passed  through  a  gate  into  a  small 
plantation.  Half-way  through  it  there  was  another  gate. 
Bryan  laid  his  hand  upon  it,  and  stopped. 

"  I  have  something  to  say  to  you,  Lady  Helen,"  he  began. 
"  Do  you  mind  waiting  here  for  a  minute?  I  will  not  keep 
you  very  long." 

She  waited  with  unmoved  face  and  perfectly  calm,  but 
after  a  moment  her  eyes  fell  from  his.  The  fire  was  too 
bright  for  her.  In  a  perfectly  mechanical  fashion  she  found 
herself  examining  the  brown  shapely  hand  which  still  rested 
upon  the  gate.  So  she  stood  listening  whilst  he  spoke,  his 
deep  bass  voice  trembling  a  little  now  and  then,  but  his 
manner  governed  by  a  wonderful  self-restraint.  There  was 
nothing  which  suggested  how  near  indeed  he  was  to  despair. 

"  Lady  Helen,  I  have  waited  for  some  time;  I  can  wait 
no  longer !  Things  have  gone  awry  with  me !  An  hour  ago, 
I  had  almost  made  up  my  mind  to  go  back  to  my  old  life !  " 

"  Back  to  your  old  life!  "  she  repeated.  "  What  non- 
sense! " 


250  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

"  Ay,  it  may  seem  so!"  he  answered.  "  You  must 
remember  that  I  dwell  alone;  I  am  a  lonely  man.  Except 
for  one  thing,  I  should  be  happier  in  a  simpler  life.  When 
that  thing  seems  very  far  off  I  get  weary.  I  have  built  my 
life  up  on  that  hope.  You  know  what  it  is!  I  don't  ask 
for  too  much  now.  I  only  ask  for  just  a  word  of  hope  to 
carry  home  with  me,  and  to  chase  the  dark  shadows  of  my 
solitude  away.    Just  a  single  word!  " 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  as  though  to  give  her  the  oppor- 
tunity of  speech.  But  she  did  not  say  anything.  She  had 
pictured  this  scene  to  herself  once  or  twice  lately,  regard- 
ing it  always  as  inevitable.  But  it  was  not  turning  out 
quite  as  she  had  imagined.    She  preferred  to  remain  silent. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  everything,  just  in  a  few  words.  I 
want  you  to  have  it  all  before  you,"  he  continued.  "  It  is 
true  that  I  was  a  vagabond  when  I  saw  you  first;  wild, 
shiftless,  and  passionate.  I  had  no  one  to  look  after  me; 
no  one  to  care  whether  I  lived  or  died,  or  what  became  of 
me!  I  saw  you,  and  I  worshipped  you.  You  filled  my 
whole  heart;  you  became  my  life.  I  left  my  cottage,  and 
lay  by  night  under  the  trees  that  I  might  hear  the  wind  sigh 
through  their  branches  and  whisper  your  name,  and  then  I 
would  close  my  eyes  and  fancy  that  I  saw  you  coming 
through  the  shadows  up  the  glade,  or  across  the  meadows. 
By  night  and  day  I  watched  your  house.  At  first  I  was  con- 
tent with  your  kind  words,  and  —  forgive  me !  —  patron- 
izing notice.  But  as  years  went  on,  my  heart  became  the 
heart  of  a  man,  and  the  boy's  dream  grew  into  a  man's  pas- 
sion. I  became  ambitious.  The  gulf  between  us  was  broad 
and  deep,  but  I  devoted  my  whole  life,  my  every  energy,  to 
bridging  it.  I  began  to  make  plans,  and  from  the  lips  of  a 
drunken  man  I  learnt  the  possibility  of  gaining  for  myself 
a  name  and  position  to  which  I  had  a  right.  And  so  I 
crossed  the  ocean  to  search  for  it,  and,  alas,  I  failed !    But  I 


"  '  I  want  just  one  little  word  of  hope  !  ' " 

The  World's  Great  Snare]  [Page  251 


THE   SUNLIGHT   OF   HOPE  251 

made  a  fortune  which  day  by  day  grows  larger.  Lady 
Helen,  I  have  begun  to  fear  that  nameless  I  came  into  the 
world,  and  nameless  I  must  go  out  of  it!  But  I  have  am- 
bitions. I  am  rich,  and  you  have  seen  for  yourself  that  the 
people  here  have  been  content  to  take  me  for  what  I  am. 
I  mean  to  go  into  Parliament,  and  I  mean  to  make  a  name 
for  myself  greater  by  far  than  the  name  I  have  lost!  I  can 
never  be  worthy  of  you  —  no  one  ever  could;  but  at  least 
you  shall  never  be  ashamed  of  your  husband,  and  —  I  love 
you !  If  only  I  had  words  to  tell  you  how  much,  how  you 
have  lived  in  my  dreams,  how  you  fill  my  whole  world! 
There  is  nothing  in  the  world  worth  having  for  me  but  your 
love.  I  meant  to  have  waited  longer;  but  this  afternoon, 
when  I  saw  you,  I  was  heart-sick  and  weary.  I  was  almost 
convinced  that  I  am  a  fool  to  be  here.  Everything  was 
darkness  and  bitterness.  Then  you  came,  and  I  knew  that 
I  must  speak  to  you.  I  don't  ask  for  too  much.  I  want 
just  one  little  word  of  hope!  " 

He  ceased,  and  Lady  Helen  too  was  silent.  It  was  all 
utterly  different  to  what  she  had  expected.  All  traces  of 
that  former  boorishness  had  fallen  away  from  him.  He 
had  spoken,  indeed,  with  a  quiet  eloquence  which  had  found 
its  way  to  her  heart.  She  was  shaken  and  agitated  as  she 
had  never  been  before  in  her  life,  and  had  never  dreamed 
of  being.  Least  of  all  had  she  supposed  that  in  this  man's 
presence  her  heart  would  beat,  and  her  power  of  speech 
falter.  She  had  imagined  herself  calm  and  collected,  and 
him  nervously  incoherent,  perhaps  violent.  And  there  he 
stood  before  her,  silent  and  manly,  and  she  —  was  neither 
calm  nor  collected.  It  was  true  that  there  was  a  passion  in 
his  bright  eyes  and  glowing  face,  a  passion  which  had  rung, 
too,  in  his  voice.    But  it  was  the  passion  which  dignifies. 

"Iara  sorry,"  she  said  at  last,  raising  her  gray  eyes 
slowly  to  his.    "  I  do  not  care  for  you  —  in  that  way.    I  do 


252     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

not  think  that  I  ever  should.  I  do  not  think  it  would  be 
right  of  me  to  give  you  any  word  of  hope." 

He  made  no  gesture,  nor  did  he  wince.  Her  face  had 
softened  to  him  as  it  had  never  done  before,  and  he  was 
fully  conscious  of  it.  He  remained  silent,  and  waited.  And 
as  he  stood  there,  a  long  shaft  of  yellow  light  from  westward 
smote  the  tops  of  the  trees  above  them,  and  fell  across  the 
dry,  brown  undergrowth  at  their  feet.  They  both  glanced 
up  at  the  rift  in  the  sky,  and  their  eyes  met  again. 

"  You  have  been  very  frank  with  me,"  she  said;  "  I  will 
try  to  be  the  same  with  you.  You  must  not  mind  if  it  hurts ! 
Nothing  can  be  so  good  as  the  truth.  You  must  please  re- 
member that  I  am  not  a  woman  of  impulse,  or,"  she  con- 
tinued hesitatingly,  "  of  over-much  imagination.  I  really 
don't  think  that  I  have  very  much  heart.  On  the  other 
hand,  I  know  that  I  am  what  people  call  proud.  I  have  not 
thought  much  about  marriage ;  but  if  I  do  marry,  the  man 
must  be  at  least  of  equal  position  to  my  own.  I  should  want 
to  take  the  lead  in  society  rather  than  follow,  and  I  should 
require  my  husband  to  have  a  career.  As  to  marrying  a 
man  without  a  name,  I  do  not  think  that  I  could  do  it.  It 
is  possible,  as  you  say,  that  if  I  were  to  love  any  one  very 
much,  I  might  alter.  But  I  do  not  love  any  one  and  I  can- 
not imagine  myself  loving  any  one  sufficiently  to  make  such 
a  sacrifice.  Do  you  know,"  she  added,  looking  up  at  him 
frankly,  "  I  think  you  have  imagined  me  to  be  a  very  differ- 
ent person  from  what  I  really  am.  You  have  thought  about 
me  a  good  deal,  and  you  have  built  up  a  Lady  Helen  in  your 
thoughts  not  at  all  like  me.  You  are  rather  a  dreamer.  I 
am  very  matter-of-fact.  Even  if  I  felt  differently  about  it, 
it  would  still  be  impossible,  for  I  could  not  marry  without 
Lord  Wessemer's  consent,  and  he  would  never  give  it  in 
your  case.    Let  us  consider  all  this  as  over,  and  be  friends." 

Curiously  enough,  he  was  not  disappointed.    She  had 


THE   SUNLIGHT   OF   HOPE  253 

listened  to  him  with  patience;  she  had  spoken  kindly. 
It  was  the  first  step,  he  told  himself.  Besides,  he  had  seen  a 
new  look  in  her  face,  a  more  womanly  one  than  it  had  ever 
worn  before,  and  he  was  far  from  despair. 

"  You  do  not  love  me,  but  you  do  not  love  any  one  else!  " 
he  said,  with  a  curious  little  tremor  in  his  tone,  almost  of 
exultation.  "  I  am  content  to  wait.  It  will  come.  I  do  not 
believe  that  you  are  heartless!  Helen,  my  love,  my  dear 
love,  it  will  come!  I  can  wait!  No,  you  need  not  shrink 
back.  I  shall  not  touch  you  till  you  give  yourself  to  me  of 
your  own  free  will.  Some  day  you  will  forget  that  I  am 
nameless,  for  you  will  love  me.    Farewell!  " 

A  sudden  warmth  had  stolen  to  her  heart.  More  than  one 
man  had  asked  her  to  marry  him,  but  none  had  ever  spoken 
to  her  like  this.  The  man's  very  daring  seemed  to  fascinate 
her.  She  could  not  escape  from  his  eyes,  and  she  felt  herself 
curiously,  yet  in  a  manner  pleasantly,  moved. 

"  You  must  not  call  me  such  names!  "  she  said,  with  an 
effort  at  iciness.  "  You  must  not  speak  to  me  like 
that!" 

He  bowed  before  her.  A  wonderful  tact  seemed  to  be 
prompting  him  exactly  how  far  he  might  go. 

"  You  need  not  fear,"  he  said  softly.  "  This  moment  I 
claim  for  my  own;  but  the  future  shall  be  yours.  You  shall 
be  Lady  Helen  to  me  then.  But  now  I  am  your  lover,  and 
you  are  Helen,  my  dearest  Helen!  " 

His  fingers  closed  like  a  vise  upon  her  hand,  and  before 
she  could  prevent  it  he  had  raised  it  to  his  lips.  She  could 
feel  his  burning  kiss  through  her  thick  glove;  but  strangely 
enough  she  was  not  angry.  He  was  master  of  the  situation, 
and  she  seemed  content  that  he  should  be  so.  It  was  all 
very  strange.  He  stooped,  and  picked  up  Tony,  and  held 
the  gate  open  for  her.  She  passed  through  without  a  word. 
She  did  not  look  at  him  again,  or  speak.    And  Bryan  strode 


254  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT  SNARE 

back  across  the  moor,  and  wondered  whether  the  first  part 
of  his  walk  had  been  a  dream,  until  his  eyes  fell  upon  the 
distant  outline  of  the  little  old-fashioned  Vicarage.  Then 
his  heart  sank  again. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THE   BITTER  WATERS  MADE   SWEET 

"  At  last  they  have  let  me  in!    Why !  " 

Bryan  stopped  short  in  the  middle  of  the  low  drawing- 
room.  His  sentence  terminated  with  that  little  shocked 
exclamation.  He  felt  that  it  might  not  be  wise  to  be  too 
much  affected  by  the  change  he  saw  in  her  face.  But  she 
concluded  it  for  him. 

"  You  think  —  that  I  have  altered!  It  is  true!  I  have 
grown  older  —  years  older  since  last  week!  You  see! 
Even  my  hands  are  thinner!  " 

He  drew  up  a  footstool  close  to  her  side,  and  smoothed 
the  delicate  white  fingers  in  his.  All  his  vague  resentment 
at  her  seclusion  was  gone.  In  a  dim  sort  of  way  he  under- 
stood something  of  what  she  must  have  gone  through.  Her 
hair  was  white,  and  her  cheeks  hollower  and  more  blanched. 
The  lustre  had  gone  from  her  eyes.  All  that  dainty  spright- 
liness  which  had  seemed  to  keep  her  young  and  gay  in  spite 
of  her  fragile  health  and  years,  had  died  away.  He  was 
shocked  at  the  change  in  her. 

"  I  am  glad  you  came!  "  she  said.  "  I  am  alone.  Ray- 
mond has  gone  out." 

"  I  have  been  every  day,"  he  answered.  "  I  was  afraid 
that  you  did  not  want  me  any  more." 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  She  laid  her  hand  gently  upon 
his. 

265 


256  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

"  It  was  not  that,  Bryan,"  she  said  softly.  "  It  was  not 
that,  indeed!" 

He  drew  a  deep  sigh  of  relief. 

"  I  made  sure  of  seeing  you  yesterday,"  he  said.  "  You 
had  another  visitor." 

She  looked  at  him  with  an  anxious  face,  and  sighed. 

"  Yes,  Lord  Wessemer  was  here.  I  sent  for  him.  I  —  I 
had  business.    Let  me  give  you  some  tea." 

She  bent  over  the  tray,  but  her  ringers  were  trembling  so 
that  she  nearly  dropped  the  sugar  tongs.  He  stretched  out 
his  hand  and  imprisoned  hers. 

"  Let  me  make  the  tea,"  he  said.    "I  can  do  it.    See!" 

She  leaned  back  with  a  faint  smile,  and  he  filled  her  cup 
and  put  it  down  beside  her.  Then  he  helped  himself  and 
sat  at  her  feet,  looking  thoughtfully  out  across  the  little 
strip  of  lawn  and  the  yew  hedge  to  where  the  twilight  was 
settling  down  upon  the  moor. 

"  Bryan!  "  she  said  softly.  "  Something  has  happened 
to  you.    There  is  a  new  look  upon  your  face.    What  is  it?  " 

He  did  not  dream  of  evading  her  question.  He  answered 
her  simply  and  at  once. 

"  I  saw  Lady  Helen  —  yesterday  afternoon." 

"  And  —  and  you  told  her!  " 

"  Yes.    I  told  her." 

"  Look  at  me,  Bryan." 

He  turned  his  face  away  from  the  window  and  obeyed 
her.  She  bent  forward,  that  she  might  see  him  more  clearly 
in  the  gathering  gloom. 

"  I  do  not  understand!  "  she  said  wearily.  "  You  look 
almost  as  though  some  good  thing  had  happened  to  you. 
She  did  not " 

Bryan  shook  his  head. 

"  No.  It  is  just  a  little  hope.  That  is  all!  Perhaps  I 
have  no  right  to  it.    But  she  talked  to  me  for  the  first  time 


THE   BITTER  WATERS   MADE   SWEET     257 

as  though  I  were  of  the  same  flesh  and  blood  as  herself.  She 
knows  that  I  am  not  giving  her  up.  She  faltered  when  she 
spoke  to  me.  She  forgot  to  be  a  statue;  she  looked  and 
spoke  like  a  woman.  I  had  never  seen  her  like  it  be- 
fore! " 

"  She  will  never  marry  you!  "  Miss  Bettesford  said  sadly. 
"  You  do  not  know  these  Wessemers,  Bryan.  I  do.  They 
are  proud,  and  cold,  and  selfish.  She  would  be  the  last 
woman  in  the  world  to  marry  a  man  who  was  not  of  her  own 
rank,  and  you  —  my  poor  boy  —  you " 

He  held  up  his  hand,  looking  at  her  in  surprise.  Her 
hands  were  trembling,  and  her  voice  was  feverish  with  ex- 
citement. 

"  Ay,  I  know!  "  he  said  doggedly.  "  But  I  may  not  be 
always  nameless !  And  if  I  am  —  so  much  the  greater  will 
be  my  triumph  when  I  make  her  love  me.  But  you  are 
talking  too  much.    I  was  forgetting." 

Her  thin,  trembling  hands  were  upon  his  shoulders,  and 
she  was  leaning  over  towards  him.  A  brilliant  spot  of  scar- 
let was  burning  on  her  thin  cheeks,  and  her  eyes  were 
strangely  bright. 

"  Bryan,"  she  cried,  "  give  her  up!  Give  her  up!  Bryan, 
you  are  only  sowing  for  yourself  the  seeds  of  a  greater  sor- 
row! There  are  women  in  the  world  more  worthy  of  you 
who  will  be  kinder  than  she!  " 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  There  are  no  other  women  in  the  world  for  me,"  he 
muttered.  "  Besides,  you  do  not  know!  The  name  I  have 
taken  was  really  my  father's  name.  I  am  having  a  search 
made.    Every  day  I  am  expecting  news.    It  may  be " 

He  stopped  short.  She  had  suddenly  thrown  aside  the 
rugs,  and  had  risen  to  her  feet.  She  was  standing  a  little 
way  away  from  him  on  the  hearthrug,  with  her  hands 
pressed  to  her  head,  and  a  strange  look  in  her  face.  When 


258     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

she  spoke  her  voice  reached  him  in  a  forced,  half-stifled 
whisper. 

"  Bryan  —  you  are  killing  me!"  she  cried.  "  God  help 
you!  God  help  us  both!  You  have  no  name!  You  never 
will  have!    And  it  is  my  fault!  " 

He  rose  slowly  up  and  stood  facing  her.  His  eyes  were 
distended  and  his  lips  were  trembling.  He  did  not  recognize 
his  own  voice.  It  was  like  a  far-off  echo  sounding  dully  in 
his  ears.  And  through  the  twilight  her  eyes  seemed  to  be 
burning  in  her  gaunt,  white  face  as  she  watched  him. 

"  Your  fault !    Your  —  your  fault !  " 

"  Yes,  Bryan.    I  —  I  am  your  mother !  " 

She  made  a  sudden  movement  towards  him,  and  held 
wide  her  arms.  A  wild  imploring  tenderness  flashed  into 
her  face,  showed  itself  even  in  the  gestures  of  her  mute 
dramatic  appeal.  After  all,  he  was  her  son,  her  flesh  and  her 
blood.    How  could  he  curse  her ! 

"Bryan!    Bryan!" 

Her  voice  touched  an  exquisite  note  of  appeal,  and  fal- 
tered. He  did  not  move.  He  was  standing  like  a  great 
statue  of  stone.  She  watched  the  lines  of  his  face  in  agony. 
Was  this  to  be  her  death,  the  crowning  of  her  life  of  sorrow? 
For  close  on  thirty  years  the  shadow  of  her  sin  had  stalked 
by  her  side,  had  dwelt  with  her  through  the  long  nights  and 
the  dreary  days.  Was  this  its  incarnation  come  to  torture 
her,  to  deal  the  final  and  the  cruellest  stripe  of  all?  The 
very  glow  of  life  which  warmed  his  veins  was  hers.  He  was 
her  creature  —  her  son,  flesh  of  her  flesh,  bone  of  her  bone. 
Once  more  she  found  courage,  and  she  called  out  to  him : 

"  Bryan,  forgive  me !  Speak  to  me,  or  I  shall  die !  " 

He  opened  his  great  arms,  and  with  a  little  cry,  she  fell 
into  them. 

"Forgive!  I  have  nothing  to  forgive  you!"  he  said 
hoarsely.    "  You  are  my  mother !  " 


THE   BITTER  WATERS   MADE   SWEET     259 

Then  the  low  ceiling  seemed  to  her  to  vanish  into  air,  and 
a  light  came  down  from  heaven.  For  nine-and- twenty- 
years  she  had  been  a  lone  and  suffering  woman,  and  now  — 
she  had  found  a  son ! 

Yet  when  it  was  all  over,  when  the  passionate  kisses  with 
which  she  had  covered  his  face  were  burning  no  longer,  and 
many  things  had  passed  between  them  which  have  no  place 
in  this  or  any  story,  he  felt  a  sudden  chill  at  his  heart.  The 
joy  of  this  thing  had  been  instant  and  deep,  but  there  was 
an  after-taste  of  bitterness.  They  were  still  alone,  and, 
holding  her  hands,  and  looking  down  upon  the  floor,  he 
asked  her  that  question. 

"  Mother  —  tell  me !    I  want  to  know  about  him." 

She  tightened  her  clasp  upon  his  hands. 

"  Have  you  not  guessed?  "  she  murmured. 

Their  eyes  met.  He  knew !  He  opened  his  lips  to  speak, 
but  the  sound  was  drowned  by  the  furious  galloping  of 
horses  in  the  lane.  They  both  turned  towards  the  window. 
A  brougham  covered  with  mud,  and  with  steaming  horses, 
had  drawn  up  at  the  gate,  and  a  tall,  slim  figure  was  walking 
up  the  garden  path.    Mother  and  son  looked  at  one  another. 

"  There  is  no  time  for  me  to  go  away,"  he  said  hoarsely. 

"  You  need  not,"  she  answered.    "  Stay!  " 

He  held  her  hands,  and  thus  they  stood  for  a  moment. 
Then  the  door  was  opened,  and  the  little  maidservant  an- 
nounced the  Earl  of  Wessemer. 

He  came  towards  them  out  of  the  shadows,  holding  his 
hat  in  his  hand;  but  in  the  centre  of  the  room  he  paused. 
A  leaping  tongue  of  firelight  had  shown  him  her  face  and 
his.  He  realized  at  once  that  the  secret  of  a  lifetime  had 
gone  for  ever. 

He  set  his  hat  down,  and  came  forward  more  slowly. 
That  studiously-acquired  philosophy  by  which  he  had  aimed 


260  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

at  the  extinction  of  all  emotion  stood  him  in  good  stead. 
He  did  not  lose  one  iota  of  his  self-control.  Whilst  they 
faced  him,  ill  at  ease  and  constrained,  he  was  at  once  urbane 
and  collected.  The  dramatic  pathos  of  the  situation  was 
altogether  lost  upon  him. 

"  So,  Bryan,  you  have  found  your  mother!"  he  said 
quietly.    "  Perhaps  it  is  better!  " 

Bryan  did  not  answer.  He  had  no  words  at  his  command. 
He  stood  dumb. 

"  It  is  possible  that  you  may  feel  very  bitterly  towards 
me,"  Lord  Wessemer  continued  calmly,  standing  a  little 
way  from  the  two,  with  his  hands  behind  his  back.  "If  it 
be  so,  I  do  not  blame  you.  I  was  the  sinner,  and  you  have 
to  bear  the  burden  of  my  fault.  It  must  seem  heinously  un- 
fair to  you.  It  is  heinously  unfair.  But  the  thing  has  hap- 
pened before,  and  it  will  happen  again.  I  am  more  sorry 
than  I  ever  imagined  I  should  be.  I  would  give  even  the 
remaining  years  of  my  life  to  set  you  right  with  the  world ! 
But  I  cannot  do  it!  Nobody  can  do  it!  If  you  reflect 
calmly  upon  the  subject,  you  will  remember  that  all  feeling 
bestowed  upon  it  is  wasted.  It  cannot  be  altered.  Say 
what  you  have  to  say  to  me,  Bryan!  " 

He  drew  himself  a  little  away  from  his  mother,  and  stood 
apart.  For  several  moments  a  deep  silence  reigned  in  the 
room.  They  both  waited  for  his  sentence.  A  log  of  wood 
fell  from  the  fire,  and  a  flame  leaped  up.  In  the  red  light 
they  both  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  face.  His  brows  were 
closely  drawn,  but  its  expression  was  quite  inscrutable.  She 
shivered  as  she  looked  at  it,  and  nervously  clasped  her 
hands.    There  was  something  there  akin  to  his  father. 

"  Not  here,"  he  answered  at  last.  "  I  will  talk  to  you 
when  we  are  alone." 

"  Come  back  with  me  now,"  Lord  Wessemer  said,  taking 
up  his  hat.    "  It  will  be  better  to  have  it  over." 


THE   BITTER  WATERS   MADE  SWEET     261 

Bryan  turned,  and,  stooping  down,  kissed  his  mother 
tenderly.    She  drew  his  face  down  to  hers. 

"  You  will  not  be  too  harsh?  "  she  pleaded. 

"  I  will  not." 

"  You  will  remember " 

"  I  am  not  any  one's  judge,"  he  answered  quietly.  "  You 
need  have  no  fear." 

"  And  you  will  come  back?  " 

"  If  not  to-night,  to-morrow,"  he  promised. 

So  she  was  content,  and  she  let  him  go. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

BRYAN  THE   PHILOSOPHER 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  the  two  men  were  sitting  facing 
one  another  in  the  great  library  at  Wessemer  Court.  Bryan 
was  perfectly  calm  and  composed.  The  dramatic  strange- 
ness of  this  new  light  thrown  upon  his  life  had  passed  away 
altogether,  so  far  as  his  connection  with  Lord  Wessemer 
was  concerned.  He  found  himself  even  looking  around  him, 
and  wondering  how  he  might  have  felt  if  this  place  had  be- 
longed to  him,  and  he  had  been  this  man's  lawful  son.  But 
when  a  servant  brought  in  tea  and  liqueurs,  and  placed  the 
tray  between  them,  and  Lord  Wessemer  pushed  over  a  box 
of  cigarettes  towards  him,  the  bathos  of  the  whole  situation 
dawned  upon  him  with  an  irresistible  grotesqueness.  He 
leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  laughed  long  and  silently. 
Lord  Wessemer,  who  was  lighting  a  cigarette,  looked  up  at 
him  curiously,  forgetting  to  throw  the  match  away  until  it 
almost  burned  his  fingers.  Then  he  sat  down,  and  Bryan 
helped  himself  mechanically  to  a  glass  of  curagoa. 

"  There  are  one  or  two  facts,  Bryan,  which  it  is  your 
right  to  know,  and  my  duty  to  tell  you,"  Lord  Wessemer 
began.    "  Shall  I  do  so  now?  " 

Bryan  nodded. 

"  You  have  learned  to-day  who  your  parents  are.  You 
have  learned  also  that  they,  or  rather  one  of  them — myself 

262 


BRYAN   THE   PHILOSOPHER  263 

—  have  done  you  an  injury  for  which  nothing  can  ever 
atone.  Remember,  Bryan,  that  I  am  the  only  one  on  whom 
a  shadow  of  blame  can  fall  —  and  I  am  very  sorry." 

It  was  the  first  note  of  real  feeling  which  had  found  its 
way  into  Lord  Wessemer's  tone.  Bryan  detected  it  at  once, 
but  he  took  no  notice. 

"  Twenty-eight  years  ago  I  was  Guy  Bryan  Nugent,  with 
three  persons  between  myself  and  the  Wessemer  title,  very 
poor  and  very  discontented.  At  that  time  your  mother 
was  the  daughter  of  the  Vicar  of  Wessemer,  old  Mr.  Charles 
Bettesford,  and  we  fell  in  love.  I  had  not  a  penny  — 
neither  had  she.  Marriage  seemed  utterly  impossible,  and 
even  I,  steeped  to  the  lips  in  all  the  dissipations  and  wild 
notions  of  Paris  and  Vienna  (I  was  in  the  Embassy  there), 
dared  not  suggest  any  alternative  to  her  who  was  one  of  the 
sweetest,  and  purest,  and  most  beautiful  of  women.  But  in 
the  end  I  did  worse  —  much  worse !  I  pressed  her  to  con- 
sent to  a  secret  marriage.  By  what  arts  I  succeeded,  it  does 
not  matter  now.  I  did  succeed;  only  what  I  styled  a  secret 
marriage  was  a  sham.  It  is  true  that  we  were  married  in  a 
church,  down  in  a  small  Devonshire  village,  but  the  man 
who  married  us  was  a  confidant  of  my  own,  a  worthless 
fellow,  and  a  thorough  scamp.  His  father  was  the  clergy- 
man of  the  parish,  but  he  was  an  invalid,  and  lived  abroad, 
leaving  a  curate  in  charge  to  look  after  his  work.  There 
were  two  churches,  eight  miles  apart,  and  one  of  them  was 
almost  always  closed,  being  in  a  desolate,  unpeopled  region. 
The  son  of  the  clergyman  was  my  confederate.  Your  mother 
knew  that  he  had  been  my  college  friend,  and  readily  be- 
lieved that  he  was  in  orders.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  was 
not.    It  was  a  carefully  thought  out  plan,  and  it  succeeded. 

"  A  year  after  our  pretended  marriage  I  was  obliged  to 
report  myself  at  Vienna,  and  I  hurried  off  there,  leaving 
your  mother  in  the  little  Swiss  village  where  we  had  been 


264  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

living.  The  illness  of  a  subordinate  detained  me  for  some 
time.  One  morning  a  telegram  reached  me.  Your  mother 
was  dangerously  ill.  I  left  at  once,  and  was  with  her  in 
twenty-four  hours.  I  found  her  in  a  delirium,  and  from  her 
ravings  I  gathered  that  she  had  discovered,  by  some  means 
or  other,  my  treachery.  At  the  height  of  her  illness  you 
were  born.  I  had  you  removed,  and  when,  after  weeks  of 
unconsciousness,  she  recovered  her  reason,  she  was  told 
that  you  were  dead." 

"  What  a  villain  you  were!"  Bryan  exclaimed  invol- 
untarily. 

"  I  admit  it,"  Lord  Wessemer  answered  calmly.  "  I  was 
a  villain!  As  soon  as  your  mother  recovered  I  offered  to 
make  her  the  only  reparation  possible.  I  had  come  into 
some  money,  and  I  offered  to  marry  her.  She  refused! 
Nothing  that  I  could  urge  moved  her!  She  went  into  a 
sisterhood  and  I  returned  to  Vienna.  We  did  not  meet  again 
for  twenty  years.  I  had  given  the  living  of  Wessemer  to  her 
nephew,  Raymond  Bettesford,  for  her  sake,  as  she  must 
have  known.  Raymond  was  an  orphan  then,  and  they  were 
living  together.  For  his  sake  she  made  no  demur,  and  she 
came  back  to  Wessemer.  On  my  return  from  abroad  I  went 
to  see  her.  You  were  there.  She  was  already  suspicious. 
The  next  day  she  sent  for  me.  The  time  was  over  for  false- 
hoods between  us.  I  told  her  everything !  I  told  her  where 
I  had  placed  you  when  young  —  it  was  not  far  from  here  — 
and  how  you  had  disappeared  suddenly.  It  was  when  you 
went  to  America." 

Bryan  was  thinking. 

"  Then  it  was  you  that  blackguard  Hamilton  or  Huntly 
came  to  see!  He  reeled  into  my  cottage  one  night,  drunk! 
He  had  travelled  thousands  of  miles,  he  said,  to  find  some 
one  —  he  meant  you !  You  were  away,  and  so  he  found  me 
out,  and  in  a  maudlin  way  kept  dropping  hints  that  he  knew 


BRYAN   THE   PHILOSOPHER  265 

my  parentage.  I  gave  him  a  bed,  and  in  the  morning  he 
had  gone.    I  followed  him  —  to  California !  " 

"  That  was  Maurice  Huntly!"  Lord  Wessemer  said. 
"  The  man  who  helped  me  deceive  your  mother.  Did  you 
find  him?  " 

.  "  Yes,  I  found  him  —  dead!  "  Bryan  answered.  "  But  I 
got  some  papers  he  left  behind.  A  copy  of  a  marriage  cer- 
tificate between  Bryan  Nugent  and  Marion  Dennison,  and 
a  birth  certificate  —  my  own!  " 

"  That  was  my  own  name!  "  Lord  Wessemer  said. 

"  Hamilton,  when  he  was  dying,  spoke  of  papers  more 
valuable  still  than  these!  In  San  Francisco  I  procured 
them.  They  were  letters,  love-letters  —  yours  and  hers,  I 
suppose!  " 

"  Ay,  he  stole  them.  I  am  glad  that  the  man  is  dead!  " 
Lord  Wessemer  declared.  "  Bryan,  many  years  ago  I 
offered  to  marry  your  mother.  She  refused  me !  To  her  I 
can  make  no  atonement,  save  that  I  have  not  married  any 
one  else.  With  you  it  may  be  different.  I  am  well  off!  I 
can  give  you  money,  or " 

Bryan  stretched  out  his  huge  limbs  and  laughed. 

"  Money!  I  do  not  know,  but  I  fancy  that  I  am  a  richer 
man  than  you,  Lord  Wessemer!  I  have  over  a  hundred 
thousand  pounds  in  the  Bank  of  England,  and  last  week  my 
partner  told  me  to  draw  on  him  for  anything  under  a  mil- 
lion dollars.    No,  I  do  not  want  your  money !  " 

"  My  friendship  may  be  useful  to  you!  " 

Bryan  looked  at  him  steadfastly. 

"  In  what  way?  " 

"  Well,  I  could  get  you  into  Parliament.  I  could  help 
you  into  your  right  place  in  society." 

"  I  can  do  all  that  for  myself,  quite  easily,  thanks,"  Bryan 
answered,  "  or  rather,  my  wealth  will  do  it  for  me!  " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.    Lord  Wessemer  spoke: 


266  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

"  Am  I  to  understand,  then,  that  —  that  you  refuse  my 
friendship  —  that  you  wish  to  have  nothing  to  do  with 
me?" 

"  No,  I  do  not  go  so  far  as  that!  "  Bryan  said  slowly.  "  I 
have  no  ill-feeling  against  you,  Lord  Wessemer.  You  have 
probably  suffered  enough.  God  knows  you  deserve  it,  not 
for  my  sake,  but  hers.  You  call  yourself  a  philosopher, 
don't  you?  Well,  I,  too,  am  philosopher  enough  not  to 
curse  you  because  you  have  sent  me  into  the  world  name- 
less.   You  say  you  want  to  help  me.    Well,  you  can!  " 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  Lord  Wessemer  said.  "  I  am 
very  glad." 

"  Thank  you!  Well,  I  want  to  marry  your  niece,  Lady 
Helen!    I  have  wanted  to  all  my  life." 

Lord  Wessemer  raised  his  eyebrows.  He  was  almost  sur- 
prised. 

"  How  can  I  help  you?  "  he  asked.  "  Lady  Helen  is  am- 
bitious, and  she  is  peculiar." 

"  Exactly.  You  can  help  me  first  negatively,  by  not  re- 
fusing your  consent.    You  are  her  guardian,  I  understand." 

"  I  will  give  my  hearty  consent  at  any  time,"  Lord  Wesse- 
mer said.  "  But  I  suppose  you  know  Lady  Helen.  What 
are  you  going  to  tell  her  about  yourself,  and  your  family?  " 

"  I  will  see  to  that,"  Bryan  answered,  frowning.  "  All 
that  I  want  from  you  is  unlimited  opportunity  of  seeing  her, 
and  your  consent  when  I  ask  for  it." 

"  You  shall  have  both,"  Lord  Wessemer  declared.  "  But, 
Bryan,  just  a  word.  I  think  I  ought  to  tell  you  that  Lady 
Helen  is  not  at  all  the  sort  of  young  woman  to  make  a  ro- 
mantic marriage.  She  has  no  imagination,  and  very  little 
heart;  added  to  which,  she  is  socially  ambitious.  Only  last 
season  she  refused  two  or  three  men,  solely  because  their 
position  did  not  satisfy  her.  I  think  it  right  to  tell  you 
this." 


BRYAN   THE   PHILOSOPHER  267 

"  Exactly/'  Bryan  remarked.  "  I  know  that  I  am  at- 
tempting a  difficult  thing,  but  you  will  find  that  I  shall 
succeed.  I  am  going  now.  Can  I  come  up  again?  You 
understand  me!" 

"  We  dine  at  eight/'  Lord  Wessemer  said,  "  and  I  be- 
lieve we  are  alone.    I  shall  say  that  I  pressed  you  to  come !  " 

Bryan  rose.  Lord  Wessemer  held  out  his  hand  across  the 
table.    There  was  a  moment's  dead  silence. 

"  I  do  not  think  that  I  want  to  shake  hands  with  you  — 
just  yet,"  Bryan  said  slowly.  "  It  doesn't  matter,  does  it? 
It  is  purely  a  sentimental  feeling,  and  I  know  that  you  are 
above  such  trifles.    I  shall  be  here  at  eight." 

Lord  Wessemer  watched  him  go,  without  moving; 
watched  him  through  the  tall  French  windows  cross  the 
park  on  his  way  homewards.  Then  his  hand  fell  heavily  to 
his  side.  There  was  a  curious  gray  shade  in  his  pale  face, 
and  his  eyes  were  dim.  He  sat  down  in  his  chair,  and  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands. 


CHAPTER   XV 

A  SILENT  TOAST 

At  a  few  minutes  to  eight,  Bryan  handed  his  coat  and  hat 
to  a  footman  in  the  great  round  hall  of  Wessemer  Court,  and 
was  ushered  into  the  drawing-room.  The  large  apartment 
was  empty,  and  only  dimly  lit,  but  from  the  smaller  exten- 
sion of  it,  the  yellow  drawing-room,  as  Lady  Helen  had 
made  it,  came  the  sound  of  soft  music,  and  the  glow  of  a 
deeper  light  through  the  gauze  curtains.  He  walked  across 
and  raised  them  softly. 

His  approach  had  been  quite  noiseless,  and  Lady  Helen, 
who  was  sitting  with  her  profile  towards  him,  did  not  at  once 
look  up.  During  the  moment  which  elapsed  before  she  was 
aware  of  his  presence,  he  found  time  for  a  swift  glance 
around  the  little  chamber.  It  was  really  only  a  recess  cur- 
tained off  from  the  larger  apartment,  but  its  style  of  fur- 
niture and  decoration  had  given  it  an  identity  of  its  own. 
The  walls  were  hung  with  deep  yellow  satin,  and  the  same 
colour  was  carried  out  in  the  upholstery,  and  the  dainty 
little  antique  chairs  and  couches.  A  bright  fire  was  burning 
in  the  grate,  and  the  glow  of  the  flames  was  mingled  with 
the  paler  light  of  half-a-dozen  wax  candles  in  a  great  silver 
candelabrum.  The  odour  of  dead  rose-leaves  from  a  huge 
blue  china  bowl  was  floating  upon  the  air,  already  perfumed 
with  the  faint  aromatic  scent  of  several  vases  of  yellow  and 


A   SILENT   TOAST  269 

white  chrysanthemums.  To  Bryan  it  was  like  a  little  fairy 
chamber.  It  was  the  type  of  that  new  world  of  refined  and 
elegant  sensuousness  which  lay  before  him. 

Some  slight  movement  betrayed  his  presence,  and  Lady 
Helen's  slim  white  fingers  rested  for  a  moment  on  the  keys 
as  she  glanced  up.  Their  eyes  met  —  and  more  even  than 
in  those  few  minutes  when  they  had  last  stood  together  on 
the  moorside,  she  realized  what  a  passion  was  smouldering 
in  this  lover  of  hers.  She  looked  down,  and  a  slight  pink 
flush  stole  into  her  cheeks.  It  died  away  almost  as  swiftly 
as  it  had  come,  but  its  momentary  presence  annoyed  her. 
Even  in  her  schooldays  she  had  not  been  used  to  blush. 

"  Lord  Wessemer  was  a  little  late  going  up  to  dress,"  she 
said.  "  I  think  he  must  have  fallen  asleep  in  the  library. 
He  won't  be  long." 

He  bowed  silently,  and  came  a  little  further  into  the 
room,  standing  by  the  side  of  the  piano,  and  watching  her 
fingers  glide  over  the  keys.  She  was  playing  again,  but 
very  softly. 

"  I  think,"  he  remarked,  "  that  to  thoroughly  appreciate 
the  refinements  and  the  beautiful  side  of  life,  one  ought, 
some  time  or  other,  to  have  been  a  boor;  at  any  rate  to 
have  lived  amongst  boorish  people,  and  boorish  surround- 
ings." 

"  Very  likely,"  she  answered.  "  Only  there  would  be  the 
danger  of  always  remaining  a  boor." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  myself,"  he  went  on  a  little  absently. 
"  To  be  with  you  here  in  this  room  and  in  this  atmosphere, 
is  like  —  heaven!  " 

She  laughed  softly. 

"  I  should  like  to  have  seen  the  people  with  whom  you 
dwelt  in  California,"  she  said.  "  I  suppose  the  men  must 
have  been  dreadfully  rough,  and  the  women  —  were  they 
as  bad?  " 


270  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT  SNARE 

A  sudden  icy  chill  stole  through  his  veins,  and  into  his 
heart.  The  joy  of  the  present  was  suddenly  forgotten.  The 
air  seemed  full  of  Myra's  voice;  he  saw  her  face,  at  one 
moment  dark  and  glowing,  brilliant  with  all  the  seductive- 
ness of  her  wonderful  beauty ;  the  next,  pale  and  worn,  yet 
chastened  with  that  wonderful  effort  of  self-immolation. 
He  felt  the  touch  of  her  hands  across  his  face,  her  kisses 
upon  his  lips,  her  caresses  as  she  crept  into  his  arms.  Oh, 
the  horror  of  it!  His  eyes,  half-frightened,  half-fascinated, 
stole  to  where  Lady  Helen  sat,  half-carelessly  waiting  for 
his  answer.  To  him,  that  pale,  proud  face  of  hers,  a  little 
softened  this  evening  by  an  unusual  tinge  of  colour  in  her 
cheeks,  was  the  exquisite  type  of  all  that  was  sweetest  and 
purest  in  womankind.  His  eyes  wandered  over  her  white 
lace  gown,  fashioned  in  somewhat  severer  style  than  is  cus- 
tomary for  an  ordinary  evening  dress,  and  which  seemed  to 
him  in  its  spotless  daintiness  emblematic  of  her  soul,  so 
white,  and  so  far  removed  from  even  a  thought  of  evil. 
Supposing  she  were  to  know !  He  looked  into  her  face  once 
more,  and  his  heart  grew  faint  at  the  very  thought.  If 
there  was  any  quality  lacking  there  at  all,  it  was  surely  pity 
—  the  softer  side  of  womanliness.  The  forehead  was  high 
and  frank,  and  the  hair  which  would  have  waved  over  it  was 
drawn  back  in  severe  but  becoming  simplicity.  Her  fea- 
tures were  clearly  and  delicately  chiselled,  the  lines  of  the 
small  mouth  were  distinct  and  firm.  Her  head  was  thrown 
back  as  she  usually  carried  it,  and  just  a  suggestion  of  white 
arms  and  shoulders  was  glimmering  through  the  gauze  of  her 
bodice.  He  looked  away,  and  set  his  teeth  together.  It 
seemed  like  profanation  to  think  of  that  other,  and  of  those 
days,  in  her  presence. 

Fortunately  perhaps  for  him,  the  need  of  answering  that 
question  of  hers  passed.  Lord  Wessemer  came  in,  and  im- 
mediately afterwards  the  butler  parted  the  fluttering  cur- 


A   SILENT   TOAST  271 

tains  and  announced  dinner.  Obeying  a  glance  from  Lord 
Wessemer,  Bryan  offered  his  arm  to  Lady  Helen.  Lord 
Wessemer  came  behind  alone. 

Dinner  was  served,  not  in  the  great,  sombre  banqueting 
hall,  but  in  a  smaller  room,  opposite  to  the  library,  and  on  a 
round  table.  The  whole  of  the  meal  was  like  a  further  rev- 
elation to  Bryan,  one  step  beyond  into  the  world  of  ele- 
gance and  refinement.  He  was  by  no  means  unusually 
silent,  yet  he  found  time  to  appreciate,  even  to  revel  in,  the 
unwonted  luxury.  He  drank  sparingly,  but  the  first  glass 
of  champagne  seemed  to  have  a  curiously  exhilarating  effect 
upon  him.  All  his  senses  awoke  to  the  delicate  charm  of 
his  surroundings.  The  little  table  at  which  they  sat  was  all 
ablaze  with  heavy  sparkling  silver,  and  dazzling  glass,  with 
fair  linen  and  dainty  fruits,  themselves  a  very  feast  in  col- 
ouring, and  great  masses  of  sweet-scented  flowers  filling  the 
air  with  their  faint  delicious  perfume.  The  table  itself,  and 
the  faces  of  the  two  people  who  sat  with  him,  were  bathed  in 
a  soft  glow  from  the  pink-shaded  lamps,  whilst  the  room 
seemed  dark  and  gloomy.  It  was  like  a  little  fairy  oasis 
amongst  the  shadows;  like  his  life,  he  thought,  frowning 
heavily  for  a  moment  as  he  thought  of  those  days  which  had 
been  all  shadows.  He  raised  his  glass,  and  he  drank  a  silent 
toast,  "  Perish  the  memory  of  them  for  ever!  "  Perish  all 
memories  of  those  long  days  and  gloomy  nights  on  the  banks 
of  the  Blue  River;  of  that  night  of  horror  in  the  desert;  of 
the  tortures  of  San  Francisco!  And  perish,  too,  all  mem- 
ories of  that  brilliant  dark  face,  with  its  wild  beauty,  and 
its  passionate  love  for  him  flashing  out  of  the  eyes,  betray- 
ing itself  in  every  word  she  uttered.  Away  with  them !  Let 
every  thought  of  her  fade  out  of  his  heart  and  brain,  and 
remain  buried  for  ever  and  for  ever. 

And  as  if  in  some  measure  purged  by  that  silent  outcry 
of  his  heart,  he  suffered  his  eyes  to  dwell  more  freely  upon 


272     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

that  fair,  proud  face  so  close  to  his,  so  clearly  visible  over 
the  waving  maidenhair  ferns,  and  the  blossoming  scarlet 
geraniums.  He  joined  more  in  the  conversation,  and  it  was 
odd  how  well  he  talked,  and  how  musical  his  deep  bass 
sounded  in  contrast  to  the  other  lighter  voices.  Once  or 
twice  their  eyes  met.  She  did  not  avert  hers,  nor  did  she 
give  him  any  token  such  as  he  craved,  of  some  intelligence 
between  them.  He  fancied  that  she  had  grown  a  little 
colder  to  him.  She  addressed  him  directly  but  seldom,  and 
long  before  dinner  was  over,  she  leaned  back  in  her  chair, 
graceful  but  bored.  He  was  wise  enough  to  take  no  notice 
of  it,  but  continued  his  conversation  with  Lord  Wessemer 
anent  the  shooting  of  running  animals.  As  soon  as  she 
could,  she  rose,  and  Bryan,  who  was  nearest  to  the  door, 
opened  it  for  her.  Again  he  was  disappointed.  She  swept 
through  with  a  faint  inclination  of  the  head,  but  she  did  not 
look  at  him. 

Bryan  resumed  his  seat,  and  lit  a  cigarette  from  the  silver 
box  which  Lord  Wessemer  had  pushed  towards  him.  A 
little  cloud  of  blue  smoke  curled  upwards  over  the  banks  of 
flowers  and  the  dainty  dishes  of  hothouse  fruits.  Through 
it  Bryan  could  see  that  Lord  Wessemer's  gray  eyes  were 
coolly  studying  his  face. 

"  Has  Lady  Helen  told  you  that  we  are  going  up  to  town 
early  next  month?  "  Lord  Wessemer  asked. 

Going  away !  Bryan  bit  his  lip,  and  ground  his  heel  into 
the  carpet,  but  he  answered  calmly  enough: 

"  No!    I  am  sorry  to  hear  it!  " 

Lord  Wessemer  smoked  on  deliberately  for  a  minute  of 
two.    Then  he  leaned  forward  to  Bryan. 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  need  be  sorry,"  he  said.  "  You 
must  go  yourself;  set  up  some  chambers  in  Piccadilly,  buy 
some  horses,  and  see  something  of  London  life.  There  are 
a  couple  of  very  decent  London  clubs  into  which  I  have 


A   SILENT   TOAST  273 

influence  enough  to  get  you,  and  I  will  see  that  you  meet 
the  right  sort  of  people!  " 

Bryan's  first  instinct  was  one  of  pleasure.  Anything  to 
avoid  separation!  Then  he  thought  of  that  worn,  sweet 
face,  with  its  gray  hair  and  fond  eyes;  how  would  she  bear 
his  absence?    His  face  clouded. 

"  I  do  not  think  that  I  shall  be  able  to  leave  the  Hall  just 
yet,"  he  said  slowly. 

"  You  are  thinking  of  —  of  her!  "  Lord  Wessemer  said. 
"  She  is  wanting  to  go  to  London,  to  be  near  Dr.  Hacker. 
If  you  go,  she  will  go !  " 

"  Then  I  will  go!  "  Bryan  answered. 

"Good!"  declared  Lord  Wessemer.  "Come!  If  you 
are  sure  you  won't  have  a  liqueur,  let  us  go  and  find  Lady 
Helen.  One  moment;  you  haven't  finished  your  claret,  I 
see.    Let  me  give  you  a  toast.    London!   Success!  " 

Bryan  lifted  his  glass  to  his  lips,  and  drained  it.  When 
he  set  it  down,  he  repeated  Lord  Wessemer's  words: 

"London!   Success!" 


CHAPTER   XVI 

A  SOUL  FLITTING   INTO  THE   SUNLIGHT 

In  the  hall  the  two  men  parted.  Lord  Wessemerwent  into 
the  library,  and  Bryan  turned  aside  to  the  drawing-room. 
He  was  going  to  find  Lady  Helen.  The  fascination  of  know- 
ing that  she  was  in  the  same  house,  that  in  all  probability 
they  would  spend  the  next  hour  together,  was  irresistible. 
He  entered  the  drawing-room,  and  in  the  little  yellow 
chamber  he  found  her  writing. 

She  laid  down  her  pen  as  he  entered,  with  the  calm  air 
of  a  hostess  whose  duty  it  is  to  entertain,  raising  her  eye- 
brows a  little  as  though  surprised  at  his  coming. 

"  I  thought  that  you  and  Lord  Wessemcr  would  play 
billiards!  "  she  remarked.    "  Won't  you  sit  down?  " 

Bryan  took  a  chair,  and  brought  it  a  little  nearer  to  hers. 

"  Lord  Wessemer  was  tired,  I  fancy,  and  he  had  some 
letters  to  write.  He  has  gone  into  the  library.  Am  I  in- 
terrupting you?  " 

She  took  up  her  pen  again. 

"  If  you  will  excuse  me,  I  will  finish  this  note,"  she  said. 
"  It  is  an  invitation  I  ought  to  have  answered  a  week  ago!  " 

He  bowed,  and  took  up  a  magazine  which  lay  on  the 
table  by  his  side.  But  he  did  not  read.  Over  its  pages  he 
looked  steadily  at  the  bent  head  of  the  woman  opposite  him. 
How  smooth  was  her  forehead,  and  how  cold  and  clearly 

274 


A  SOUL   FLITTING  INTO  SUNLIGHT      275 

cut  her  features !  Everything  about  her  savoured  of  an  ex- 
clusiveness,  personal  as  well  as  aristocratic.  Would  he  ever 
be  able  to  break  down  the  barrier,  he  wondered;  to  see  the 
light  break  across  her  face,  and  see  the  depths  of  her  calm 
blue  eyes  stirred  with  passion?  A  sudden  chill  went  to  his 
heart.  Was  it  possible  for  him,  or  any  other  man,  to  do  it? 
Was  she  really  as  cold  and  passionless  as  she  seemed;  as 
pure  and,  alas!  as  unattainable  as  that  glorious  white  snow 
on  the  Sierra  tops  when  smitten  by  the  morning  sunlight? 
He  sighed,  and  just  at  that  moment  she  laid  down  her 
pen. 

"  May  I  trouble  you  to  ring  the  bell?  "  she  asked. 

He  sprang  up,  and  she  collected  her  letters  into  a  little 
heap.  The  servant  who  came  brought  them  coffee  in  tiny, 
slender  cups.    Bryan  took  some,  and  sipped  it  thoughtfully. 

"  You  did  not  tell  me  that  you  were  going  to  London 
soon!  "  he  said,  after  a  brief  pause. 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  faint  smile  —  a  smile  which 
irritated  him  vaguely. 

"  Why  should  I?  Every  one  goes  to  London  for  the 
season.    I  thought  you  knew  that !  " 

"  I  am  glad  that  every  one  goes,"  he  remarked,  "  because 
I  am  going." 

"  Indeed!    When  did  you  decide  that?  " 

"  This  evening.  It  was  Lord  Wessemer's  suggestion.  I 
have  spoken  to  him  about  you." 

"  What?  " 

Her  high,  delicate  eyebrows  were  contracted  into  a  dis- 
tinct frown.  She  was  looking  as  nearly  angry  as  she  per- 
mitted herself  to  be. 

"  I  have  spoken  to  Lord  Wessemer!  I  told  him  that  I 
wanted  you  to  marry  me!  How  could  I  come  here,  and  eat 
his  dinner,  and  not  tell  him?  " 

"  I  hope  you  added  that  I  refused  you!  " 


276     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

"  I  did.  I  also  told  him  that  one  of  your  reasons  for  re- 
fusing me  was  the  improbability  of  gaining  his  consent." 

"  What  did  he  say  to  that?  " 

"  He  gave  it  to  me!  " 

She  looked  at  him,  literally  dumbfounded.  Once  again 
she  felt  a  thrill  almost  of  fear  at  the  dogged  persistence  of 
this  man,  and  his  silent  contempt  of  all  difficulties.  There 
was  something  mysterious  about  his  success,  in  his  rapid 
transition  from  vagabondage  to  the  gentleman  he  undoubt- 
edly was,  in  his  vast  wealth,  and  in  this  last  crowning  piece 
of  successful  audacity,  the  cool  demanding  of  her  hand  from 
that  most  aristocratic  and  unsympathetic  of  men,  the  Earl 
Wessemer ! 

"  He  gave  you  his  consent!  "  she  repeated  slowly. 

"Yes!  He  gave  it  to  me !  He  did  not  make  any  objec- 
tion at  all." 

"  But  did  he  ask  you  nothing  —  forgive  me !  —  as  to  your 
family?  " 

Bryan  shook  his  head. 

"  He  knows  that  I  have  no  family,"  he  answered.  "  He 
knows  that  so  far  as  the  world  is  concerned,  I  have  to  make 
my  own  name.  But  in  these  days  there  is  much  that  can 
be  done  by  a  man  who  has  ambition  and  money.  I  am  very 
rich  indeed,  and  I  am  very  ambitious.  As  for  the  rest,  Lord 
Wessemer  has  offered  me  his  friendship  and  his  influence." 

"You  have  surprised  me  very  much  indeed!"  Lady 
Helen  said,  looking  into  the  fire.  "  I  had  imagined  that 
Lord  Wessemer's  prejudices  would  have  prevented  his  even 
listening  to  you!  " 

"  If  only  I  could  hope  that  yours  would  vanish  as 
speedily,"  Bryan  said,  his  deep  bass  voice  a  little  tremulous, 
and  his  eyes  very  soft  and  bright,  "  I  should  feel  myself  very 
happy.  Lady  Helen,  tell  me  what  you  would  have  me  do 
to  win  you,  and  I  will  do  it.    Would  you  like  me  to  go  into 


A  SOUL  FLITTING  INTO  SUNLIGHT      277 

Parliament?  I  could  find  a  seat  in  the  autumn,  and  with 
you  to  work  for,  I  promise  that  I  would  make  a  name  that 
you  would  not  be  ashamed  of.  Lord  Wessemer  tells  me 
that  the  doors  of  society  will  not  be  closed  upon  me ;  that 
his  influence  is  quite  enough  to  enable  me  to  mix  with  the 
people  whom  you  would  wish  to  live  amongst.  My  whole 
life  should  be  an  offering  to  you;  and  I  would  make  you 
happy,  Lady  Helen.    I  would  indeed !  " 

She  looked  at  him,  not  unkindly,  but  gravely.  She  was 
indeed  a  little  moved,  more  moved  than  she  had  ever  been 
before  by  a  man's  pleading.  But  even  then  she  felt  that 
this  new  feeling,  sweet  in  a  sense  though  it  was,  was  scarcely 
a  thing  to  trust  to.  It  might  die  away  as  swiftly  as  it  had 
come;  as  yet  she  had  no  confidence  in  it.  In  any  case,  it 
had  no  strength  to  undermine  all  the  preconceived  ideas  of 
her  life.  She  wanted  to  be  fair  —  to  be  fair  to  herself  as 
well  as  to  him;  and  she  thought  for  some  time  before  she 
answered. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  you  are  going  to  be  disappointed  in 
me,  Mr.  Bryan,"  she  said  slowly.  "  I  do  really  admire  the 
wonderful  way  in  which  you  have  stepped  out  of  your  old 
self,  and  if,  as  you  say,  my  influence  has  had  anything  to  do 
with  it,  I  am  very  glad.  But  you  ask  from  me  what  I  am 
not  able  to  give.  You  want  me  to  care  for  you  in  a  certain 
way,  and  I  do  not !    It  is  best  to  be  candid,  is  it  not?  " 

"  It  is  best,"  Bryan  answered.  "  But,  Lady  Helen,  I  do 
not  expect  too  much.  As  yet  I  am  almost  a  stranger  to 
you.  I  am  content  to  wait.  I  have  never  dared  to  hope  to 
win  you  easily.  All  I  ask  is,  that  you  will  take  some  time  to 
consider." 

"  That  I  will  grant,"  she  answered.  "  It  is  only  fair.  I 
warn  you  that  I  am  naturally  not  at  all  of  a  sympathetic  or 
affectionate  disposition.  I  have  never  expected  to  care  for 
any  one  in  the  way  you  desire.    I  still  feel  that  it  is  not 


278     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

likely.  But  if  you  wish  it,  I  will  give  you  my  answer,  say 
in  six  months'  time." 

She  had  risen,  and  was  standing  by  his  side,  a  fair,  stately 
figure  in  her  creamy-white  gown,  with  its  soft  folds  of  lace 
rising  one  above  the  other  like  the  waves  of  the  sea,  and 
emitting  at  every  rustle  a  faint  sweet  perfume  of  dried 
lavender,  which  became  mingled  with  the  odour  of  the  roses 
at  her  bosom.  One  small  slipper  was  stealing  out  from 
beneath  a  cloud  of  white  lace  draperies,  and  resting  upon  the 
fender;  her  elbow  was  upon  the  broad  mantelpiece,  and  her 
head  was  reclining  slightly  upon  her  hand.  They  stood 
together  for  several  moments  without  any  further  speech. 
Then  suddenly  he  took  a  quick  step  towards  her,  and  held 
out  his  arms.  A  swift  uncontrollable  desire  had  come  to 
him.  He  must  take  her  into  his  arms,  and  clasp  her  there. 
One  kiss  on  those  firm,  proud  lips,  and  she  would  be  his 
—  his  for  ever!  A  passion  leaped  into  his  face;  his  hot 
breath  fell  even  upon  her  cheek.  She,  too,  was  agitated. 
The  rich  colour  had  flooded  her  cheeks.  She  was,  in  a 
sense,  fascinated  by  the  strength  of  his  passion,  and  the 
desire  in  his  glowing  eyes.  If  he  had  carried  out  his  pur- 
pose at  that  moment;  if  he  had  risked  everything  and  taken 
her  boldly  into  his  arms,  he  might  have  broken  down  for 
ever  that  barrier  of  icy  exclusiveness  which  custom  and 
disposition  had  built  up  around  her.  If  he  had  dared,  she 
would  have  been  very  near  yielding.  It  was  the  golden 
opportunity  of  his  life,  and  while  he  hesitated  it  passed 
away. 

In  that  intense  silence  they  both  distinctly  heard  the 
sound  of  quick  footsteps  crossing  the  outer  room.  The 
tension  between  them  passed  away  in  a  moment.  Bryan 
turned  his  head,  and  gave  a  great  start.  Raymond  Bettes- 
ford,  pale  and  splashed  with  mud,  was  standing  in  the 
aperture. 


A  SOUL   FLITTING   INTO  SUNLIGHT      279 

"  Bryan,  she  is  ill  —  dying!  "  he  faltered.  "  There  is  a 
horse " 

With  a  low,  deep  cry  Bryan  sprang  past  him.  He 
stopped  for  neither  hat  nor  coat,  but  in  his  thin  evening 
clothes  he  sprang  on  to  the  horse  which  Raymond  had 
ridden  up.  There  were  a  few  moments  of  wild  riding 
through  the  darkness,  with  the  bleak  wind  rushing  past 
him,  a  leap  from  the  park  into  the  lane,  and  he  was  there, 
through  the  lit  hall  and  up  the  narrow  staircase  to  where  a 
door  stood  open,  and  a  woman  lay  upon  a  bed,  with  a  smile 
upon  her  lips  which  was  the  smile  of  death.  He  knew  it  in 
a  moment;  he  knew  that  there  was  no  hope.  The  doctor 
and  the  little  servant-maid  stood  away  from  the  bedside  as 
he  entered,  a  strange,  wild  figure,  with  his  wind-tossed  hair 
and  mud-bespattered  clothes.  He  fell  on  his  knees  before 
her,  and  his  arms  drew  her  into  his  embrace.  But  he  could 
not  speak. 

"  My  boy !  "  she  murmured.    "  My  poor,  dear  boy!  " 

She  closed  her  eyes  again.  He  whispered  to  her,  but  she 
did  not  hear.  White  and  still  she  lay  in  his  arms  through 
the  long,  weary  hours  of  the  night.  And  Bryan  never 
moved. 

She  opened  her  eyes  at  last.  The  night  was  gone. 
Through  a  chink  in  the  blind  an  odd  little  ray  of  white  sun- 
light had  found  its  way  on  to  the  bed.  She  lay  looking 
at  it  for  a  moment,  as  though  bewildered.  Then  her  arms 
suddenly  tightened  around  Bryan.  There  was  a  bright  light 
in  her  face.    She  understood. 

"  My  boy!"  she  cried  faintly.  "  Thank  God!  Thank 
God!   The  morning  has  come!  " 

An  hour  later  he  wandered  out  into  the  sunlit  garden, 
and  came  back  with  a  handful  of  fresh,  wet  violets.  As  he 
passed  up  to  her  room  with  them,  he  heard  the  sound  of  a 


280     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

man's  deep,  subdued  sobbing.  The  library  door  was  open, 
and  he  glanced  mechanically  in.    It  was  Lord  Wessemer! 

He  called  out  to  him  softly,  and  beckoned.  Together 
the  two  men  stole  upstairs,  and  into  the  chamber  of  death. 

They  stood  over  her,  and  Bryan,  pointing  to  the  pillow, 
gave  the  wet,  fragrant  violets  into  Lord  Wessemer's  hands. 
He  laid  them  down  softly.  The  two  men  stood  side  by 
side. 

"  Bryan  —  do  you  think  —  that  she  forgave  me?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Ay!    I  know  she  did!  "  Bryan  answered. 

Lord  Wessemer  held  out  his  hand  hesitatingly. 

"  Will  you?  "  he  asked. 

Bryan  ground  his  teeth. 

"  She  was  an  angel!  "  he  said  simply.    "  I  am  not!  " 


BOOK   III 
CHAPTER   I 


THE    "  HILARITY  "   STAR 


A  tall,  broad-shouldered  man,  with  a  loose  overcoat 
barely  concealing  his  evening  clothes,  stood  on  the  pavement 
opposite  the  "  Hilarity  "  Theatre,  reading  the  play-bill.  It 
was  eight  o'clock,  and  the  exterior  of  the  place  was  a  per- 
fect blaze  of  light.  A  long  stream  of  carriages  and  hansoms 
were  setting  down  people,  and  there  being  some  rumour  of 
a  visit  from  Royalty,  a  strip  of  red  drugget  had  been  laid 
across  the  pavement  from  the  stalls  entrance.  Several 
policemen  and  commissionaires  were  very  busy  opening  and 
banging  doors,  and  shouting  at  the  cabmen,  who  would 
drive  off  with  their  horses'  heads  in  the  wrong  direction. 
Altogether  there  was  a  good  deal  of  bustle. 

Bryan,  who  was  standing  with  his  hands  thrust  deep 
down  in  his  coat-pockets,  and  smoking  a  cigar,  glanced 
irresolutely  into  the  crowded  vestibule,  and  hesitated. 

"  Don't  see  why  I  shouldn't  have  an  evening  off,"  he 
said  to  himself.  "  I  can  get  to  the  Forresters'  after  this 
thing's  over." 

He  glanced  down  again  at  the  bill.  There  it  was  in  great, 
staring  letters: 

281 


282  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

To-night 

NEW  COMIC   OPERA 

"MADAME   LA   PRINCESSE " 

MISS   MERCIER 

AS 

La  Princesse 

"  Everybody's  talking  about  the  thing,"  he  muttered. 
"  I'll  see  if  I  can  get  a  seat,  anyway." 

He  threw  away  his  cigar,  which  was  scrambled  for  by 
half-a-dozen  urchins,  and  passing  through  the  open  doors, 
entered  the  luxurious  reception  room,  with  its  velvet 
fauteuils  and  graceful  palms,  and  little  groups  of  women  in 
soft  opera  cloaks  talking  to  their  cavaliers.  He  made  his 
way  to  the  ticket  office  and  asked  for  a  seat. 

The  man  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

"  Haven't  you  booked,  sir?  "  he  asked. 

"  No.    Have  you  a  seat  anywhere  I  can  have?  " 

The  man  looked  away  and  whispered  to  his  assistant. 
Then  he  turned  to  Bryan. 

"  We  have  just  had  a  single  stall  returned,"  he  said. 
"  You  can  have  that,  if  you  like.  It  is  the  only  vacant  seat 
in  the  house." 

Bryan  put  down  his  half-guinea  and  took  the  ticket. 
Then  he  made  his  way  down  the  corridor,  bought  a  pro- 
gramme and  book  of  the  words,  and  settled  down  in  the 
comfortable  easy-chair  with  a  sense  of  anticipation  which 
made  him  laugh  softly  to  himself  as  he  realized  it.  He  had 
been  in  London  for  nearly  four  months,  and  he  had 
found  society  a  little  harder  work  than  gold-digging,  with- 
out half  the  satisfaction.  This  was  his  first  evening  to  him- 
self, and  was  the'  result  of  a  moment's  impulse.  He  had  no 
binding  engagement  for  an  hour  or  so,  and  the  sight  of  the 


THE    "  HILARITY  "  STAR  283 

name  on  the  bills,  which  was  in  every  one's  mouth,  had 
presented  a  sudden  temptation.  He  felt  something  like  a 
schoolboy  who  has  stolen  into  a  circus. 

The  orchestra  played  the  overture,  which  was  long,  but 
tuneful,  and  the  curtain  went  up.  Sometimes,  afterwards, 
he  tried  to  remember  what  it  was  all  about,  but  he  never 
could.  He  carried  away  only  a  hazy  recollection  of  groups 
of  chorus  girls  in  the  short  hooped  skirts  and  sabots  of  French 
peasants,  the  swinging  sign  of  an  old  inn,  and  a  lover  in 
open-worked  shirt  and  velvet  knickerbockers,  who  sang  the 
opening  song  magnificently,  and  whom  Bryan  himself 
loudly  encored.  He  enjoyed  it  all  hugely  at  the  time,  but 
the  whole  web  of  memory  was  swept  away  by  the  crisis 
which  was  so  close  at  hand.  At  one  moment  he  was  ap- 
plauding with  a  boyish  enthusiasm,  some  sparks  of  which 
had  survived  his  latter-day  schooling,  and  the  next,  his 
hands  had  dropped  nervously  on  to  his  knees,  and  he  was 
sitting  there  with  eyes  still  fastened  upon  the  stage,  and  a 
curious  dazed  wonder  numbing  all  his  senses.  The  smile 
had  vanished  from  his  lips,  and  the  colour  from  his  cheeks. 
There  was  a  singing  in  his  ears,  and  a  wild  tumult  in  his 
heart.  The  ghost  of  his  past  was  there  on  the  gaily-lit 
stage,  the  central  figure  in  that  dainty  scene  of  Arcadian 
voluptuousness.  She  was  gliding  to  the  front;  there  was  a 
roar  of  applause,  and  then  a  deep  hush.  It  was  Myra !  Myra 
in  powdered  hair,  under  which  her  dark  eyes  were  flash- 
ing as  brightly  as  ever,  and  silken  gown  with  long  train 
looped  up  over  her  arm!  There  was  no  possibility  of  any 
mistake.  It  was  Myra,  whose  last  note  had  just  died  away, 
and  for  whom  had  arisen  that  storm  of  applause  which  was 
thundering  all  around  him. 

He  followed  her  through  the  act,  watching  her  graceful 
movements  and  coquettish  little  gestures,  without  the 
shadow  of  a  smile.   He  listened  to  her  voice,  which  was 


284  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

bringing  all  London  to  the  theatre,  without  a  single  thrill  of 
rapture.  The  fact  that  she  was  more  beautiful  than  ever 
scarcely  occurred  to  him.  He  was  paralyzed  by  her  mere 
presence  there,  within  a  few  feet  of  him.  Once,  at  a  little 
trill  in  a  song,  he  set  his  teeth  and  drew  a  sharp  breath.  She 
had  sung  like  that  one  night,  on  the  banks  of  the  Blue 
River.  They  had  been  sitting  outside  the  shanty,  watching 
the  fireflies  in  the  valley.  He  had  thrown  his  arm  care- 
lessly around  her,  and  she  had  sung  to  him  in  the  soft 
velvety  darkness,  with  her  face  turned  wistfully  to  the 
shadows  of  the  Sierras,  and  the  moonlight  gleaming  in  her 
dark,  passionate  eyes.  As  the  echoes  of  her  voice  died  away, 
he  ground  his  elbows  into  the  cushioned  arms  of  his  stall, 
and  swore. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  act,  he  rose  and  quitted  his  seat, 
walking  with  the  air  of  a  man  in  a  dream,  and  all  the  boyish 
light-heartedness  of  a  few  hours  ago  completely  gone.  He 
found  his  way  with  some  difficulty  to  the  back  of  the  theatre, 
and,  standing  underneath  a  gas  lamp,  scribbled  a  single  line 
on  the  back  of  a  card. 

He  knocked  at  the  stage-door,  and  stood  for  a  moment  in 
a  bare  passage  until  he  was  sharply  confronted  by  the  door- 
keeper.   He  held  out  his  card  to  him. 

"  I  want  you  to  take  this  to  Miss  Mcrcier,"  he  said. 
"  I'll  wait  for  an  answer!  " 

The  man  shook  his  head,  and  declined  the  card. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  use,  sir,"  he  said  sharply.  "  There's  been 
scores  of  them  try  it.  Miss  Mercier  has  given  me  strict 
orders  to  refuse  all  letters,  or  cards,  or  parcels  —  even 
flowers!  If  I  were  to  disobey  her,  she'd  very  likely  report 
me!" 

"  That's  all  right,"  Bryan  answered  quietly.  "I  am  a 
old  friend  of  Miss  Mercier's.  I  knew  her  in  America. 
Here!" 


THE    "  HILARITY"   STAR  285 

He  slipped  a  sovereign  into  the  man's  unwilling  palm. 
Bryan  was  standing  underneath  the  gas  lamp,  and  the  man 
looked  into  his  features  doubtfully. 

"  There's  been  several  tried  to  gammon  me  that  they 
were  friends  of  Miss  Mercier's,"  he  said  slowly.  "  I  don't 
mean  no  offence,  sir,  but  you  remember  that  if  what  you  say 
is  not  true,  I  shall  lose  my  place." 

"  You'll  find  that  it  is  all  right,"  Bryan  answered.  "  Miss 
Mercier  will  remember  me." 

The  man  nodded,  and  went  off.  It  was  fully  five  minutes 
before  he  reappeared.  On  his  return  he  addressed  Bryan 
with  more  consideration. 

"  Miss  Mercier  was  just  going  on,  sir,"  he  announced. 
"  She  had  no  time  to  write  a  line.  She  wished  me  to  say 
that  she  would  be  leaving  by  this  door  at  a  quarter  past 
eleven." 

"  Thank  you!"  Bryan  said  simply.  "I  will  be 
here!  " 

He  walked  away  and  wandered  aimlessly  about  the 
streets.  He  had  no  desire  to  see  any  more  of  the  perform- 
ance; another  time  would  do  for  that.  To-night  he  wanted 
to  think.  And  so  he  walked  away,  unwittingly  turning  his 
steps  towards  the  very  heart  of  pleasure-seeking  London, 
elbowing  his  way  amongst  the  crowds  of  men  and  women 
whose  faces  he  did  not  see,  and  all  the  time  trying  to  fix 
this  thing  in  his  mind,  to  realize  what  it  was  that  had  hap- 
pened, and  to  plan  for  himself  some  definite  course  of  action. 
It  was  a  fine  May  evening,  and,  even  around  Leicester 
Square,  the  wind  was  soft,  and  an  odour  of  spring  was  in 
the  air.  Women  laughed  in  his  face,  and  men  turned  round 
and  grumbled  at  his  calm  monopoly  of  the  pavement.  He 
did  not  hear  either  of  them.  The  laughter  and  soft  whisper- 
ings of  the  one,  and  the  angry  asides  of  the  other,  were 
jumbled  together  in  his  ears.    He  could  only  think  of  this 


286     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

strange  resurrection  of  his  past,  and  of  that  dark  bewitching 
face  which  had  followed  him  from  across  the  seas  to  the 
world's  capital. 

He  walked  restlessly  about,  a  tall,  striking  figure  amongst 
the  motley  throng,  until  close  upon  eleven  o'clock.  He  had 
looked  at  his  watch  beneath  a  gas  lamp,  and  the  simple 
mechanical  action  seemed  to  restore  him  to  every-day  life. 
He  drew  a  quick  breath,  swung  round,  and  walked  back 
to  the  theatre. 

There  were  several  men  standing  about  in  the  narrow 
lane,  a  little  apart,  like  sentinels,  with  their  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  closed  door.  Bryan  remembered,  with  an  odd  little 
feeling  of  annoyance,  that  only  a  few  nights  ago  he  had 
spoken  with  contempt  of  the  boys  who  hung  around  the 
stage-door  of  a  theatre.  He,  too,  was  one  of  them  now  in 
the  eyes  of  any  who  should  see  him  there. 

One  or  two  stylishly-dressed  young  women  came  out  and 
strolled  away.  Then  the  door  opened,  and  his  heart  gave 
a  little  jump.  Myra  was  there,  looking  eagerly  around  her. 
Their  eyes  met,  and  she  gave  a  little  start  forward.  She 
held  out  both  her  hands  to  him,  with  the  old  impulsive 
delight,  and  forgetting  that  such  a  thing  as  onlookers 
existed,  he  found  himself  grasping  them  warmly. 

"  At  last!  At  last!  "  she  murmured,  with  a  little  familiar 
croon  of  delight.    "  I  began  to  despair  of  you." 

He  held  her  hands  still,  and  looked  down  into  her 
face. 

"  I  only  knew  that  you  were  in  England  to-night!  "  he 
said.  "  I  was  one  of  the  audience.  I  found  you  out  quite 
by  accident." 

She  moved  across  the  pavement,  and  at  her  motion  he 
opened  the  door  of  a  cab  waiting  there." 

"  You  will  come  home  with  me,  of  course!"  she  said. 
"  We  can  talk  there." 


THE    "  HILARITY  "   STAR  287 

He  handed  her  in  and  followed  himself.  As  he  put  up 
the  window,  one  of  the  men  who  had  been  waiting  about, 
walked  away  frowning.  Bryan  leaned  back,  and  bit  his  lip. 
It  was  Sir  George  Conyers,  Lady  Helen's  cousin. 


CHAPTER   II 
a  sorrow's  crown  of  sorrow 

The  drive  was  only  a  short  one,  and  while  it  lasted,  they 
scarcely  spoke  a  word.  Once,  soon  after  they  started,  her 
hand,  as  though  by  accident,  fell  upon  his  arm.  He  made 
no  effort  to  move  it,  but  he  did  not  take  it  into  his.  He  sat 
there  dallying  with  a  strange  sense  of  unreality,  as  the  cab 
rolled  along  Regent  Street.  Every  now  and  then  the  interior 
of  the  shabby  little  vehicle  was  momentarily  illuminated 
with  a  flash  of  light  from  a  passing  carriage  or  a  street  lamp, 
and  at  such  times  he  stole  several  glances  at  her.  It  was 
scarcely  possible  for  him  to  believe  that  this  was  Myra;  that 
this  closely-veiled  woman,  in  her  dark,  well-fitting  clothes, 
from  which  came  the  faint  odour  of  some  delicate  perfume, 
was  really  the  wild,  uncultivated  girl  who  had  sat  with  him 
in  the  doorway  of  his  shanty  far  away  in  that  wild  Western 
world,  and  watched  the  glimmering  shadows  on  the  moun- 
tain's side,  and  sang  to  him,  and  tried  to  count  the  fireflies 
around  the  perfumed  shrubs.  Most  wonderful  of  all  meta- 
morphoses ! 

The  cab  set  them  down  at  the  door  of  a  quiet,  dull-look- 
ing house,  in  a  street  leading  off  Portland  Place.  Myra 
took  out  a  latch-key,  and  opened  the  door. 

u  My  sitting-room  is  upstairs!  "  she  said. 

He  followed  her,  with  sudden  grim  recollection  of  that 

288 


A  SORROW'S   CROWN   OF  SORROW        289 

other  time  when  she  had  brought  him  home  to  her  rooms, 
high  up  in  one  of  the  tallest  and  craziest  lodging-houses  in 
San  Francisco.  After  the  gesture  with  which  she  had 
motioned  him  to  follow  her,  she  did  not  look  round  again. 
They  went  up  two  flights  of  stairs,  and  then  Myra  opened  the 
door  of  a  good-sized,  comfortably-furnished  sitting-room, 
and  ushered  him  in.  There  were  flowers  upon  the  table,  and 
a  little  fire  burning  on  the  hearth.  A  shaded  lamp,  turned 
very  low,  stood  upon  the  sideboard.  She  closed  the  door, 
and  turned  the  lamp  up,  standing  for  a  few  seconds  within 
the  little  halo  of  rosy  glow.  Then  she  turned  towards  him, 
with  arms  timidly  held  out,  and  a  wonderful  softness  in  her 
deep,  bright  eyes. 

"  Kiss  me,  Bryan!  "  she  murmured. 

He  moved  nearer  towards  her,  and  she  drew  him  into  her 
arms,  clasping  them  around  his  neck  with  gentle  force.  Her 
head  fell  back  a  little,  and  notwithstanding  the  fashionable 
little  hat  and  raised  veil,  there  was  something  curiously 
familiar  in  the  slight  disorder  of  her  hair,  and  the  seductive 
curve  of  her  lips.  He  stooped  and  kissed  her,  loathing  him- 
self that  he  did  so,  but  powerless  against  the  witchery  of  her 
soft  caress,  and  the  expectation  of  her  glowing  eyes.  Then 
she  drew  him  to  a  couch  by  the  fire,  and  sat  down  beside 
him,  holding  one  of  his  hands. 

"  You  have  changed!"  she  said.  "  You  have  become 
a  gentleman !  I  always  said  that  you  were  one,  and  I  was 
right,  wasn't  I?  " 

"  And  you,"  he  said,  ignoring  her  speech;  "  the  change 
in  you  is  more  wonderful  still !  Tell  me  about  it !  Go  back 
—  to  the  very  beginning!  " 

"  To  the  very  beginning!  "  she  repeated.  "  That  means 
to  when  we  parted  in  San  Francisco  —  you  went  out  to  buy 
your  ticket  —  one  of  those  stifling  nights,  nearly  two  years 
ago.    Yes,  I  remember  it !    It  was  an  awful  night !  " 


290     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

The  colour  burned  his  cheeks.  He  was  hot  with  shame. 
The  brutality  of  his  conduct  stood  out  before  him,  written 
plain  and  large.  On  that  night  he  had  fled  home  with  the 
money  which  was  the  price  of  her  soul;  had  fled  home,  and 
had  left  her  to  be  the  mistress  of  the  man  whom  he  knew 
she  loathed.  What  a  coward!  And  yet  she  had  forgiven 
him! 

"  Bryan!  "  she  said.  "  Do  you  know  I  have  never  really 
blamed  you,  and  yet  —  yet  when  you  heard  what  happened 
that  night,  I  sorter  wondered  —  I  mean  it  seemed  strange 
that  you  never  tried  to  find  out  what  became  of  me.  It  was 
not  quite  —  kind,  was  it?  " 

"  I  do  not  understand/'  he  said.  "  I  know  that  I  was  a 
blackguard  to  go,  and  I  have  despised  myself  for  it  every 
day  since.  But  what  do  you  mean  happened?  You  went 
—  to  him?  " 

Her  expression  suddenly  changed.  She  sat  and  looked 
at  him  breathlessly. 

"  You  did  not  know  that  Amies  Rutten  was  shot  dead 
that  night  in  his  library?  " 

"  Good  God!  No!  "  he  cried.  "  I  heard  nothing  of  it! 
I  left  San  Francisco  at  seven  that  night,  and  travelled 
straight  to  New  York.    I  heard  nothing!  " 

"  You  did  not  know  that  Amies  Rutten  was  shot  that 
night!  "  she  said.    "  Say  it  again !  " 

"  I  did  not  know  it!  "  he  repeated  firmly.  "  How  should 
I?  I  never  bought  American  newspapers.  If  I  had  known 
it,  I  should  have  come  back!  " 

She  got  up  and  walked  away  for  a  moment.  When  she 
came  back,  her  eyes  were  very  bright,  and  her  lips  were 
quivering. 

"  It  seems  odd  to  have  to  change  all  one's  ideas  about 
a  thing,"  she  said,  sitting  down  again  beside  him.  "  Bryan, 
I  never  loved  you  less  —  I  could  not  —  but  it  seemed  to 


A  SORROW'S   CROWN   OF   SORROW       291 

me  that  you  were  very  cruel  to  leave  me  all  alone  to  face 
the  horror  of  that  thing!  And  I  have  been  blaming  you 
all  the  time,  and  you  did  not  deserve  it.  I  am  real  sorry, 
Bryan!" 

She  flashed  a  brilliant  smile  upon  him  through  a  mist  of 
tears,  and  swayed  slightly  towards  him,  so  that  he  could 
have  kissed  her  if  he  would.    But  he  did  not] 

"  I  must  tell  you  all  about  it,  then!  "  she  said  nestling 
close  up  to  him.  "  There  isn't  so  very  much  to  tell.  That 
night  I  went  to  his  house.  I  walked  all  the  way,  I  remem- 
ber, and  I  felt  as  though  I  were  looking  in  the  faces  of  the 
men  and  women  who  passed  me,  and  upon  the  stars,  for  the 
last  time.  I  was  going  to  commit  what  I  heard  some  one 
call  the  other  day,  moral  suicide.  Bryan,"  she  went  on 
softly,  "  you  know  that  I  was  not  what  people  call  a  good 
woman,  but  there  are  times  when  a  woman  almost  glories 
in  the  sin  she  does,  and  there  are  times  when  she  loathes  it, 
and  when  every  step  further  is  a  step  deeper  and  deeper  down 
into  hell !  When  I  took  Amies  Rutten's  money,  I  took  that 
first  step ;  and  as  I  walked  towards  his  house  that  night,  I 
felt  as  though  I  were  giving  myself  up  for  ever  —  body  and 
soul !  It  was  something  very  much  worse  than  death  which  I 
seemed  to  feel  closing  in  upon  me.  There  was  a  breeze 
blowing  in  from  the  sea  when  I  crossed  the  Park,  and  I 
climbed  on  to  one  of  those  brown  knolls  to  feel  it  on  my  face. 
I  remember  lingering  there,  and  feeling  that  the  winds 
would  never  blow  upon  me  again,  that  I  was  going  to  my 
death!  I  could  only  think  of  it  like  that.  I  went  on  after  a 
while,  loitering  very  slowly,  sitting  every  now  and  then  on 
seats  in  the  broad  walk,  watching  the  electric  light  from  the 
cars  flash  against  the  deep  green  trees,  and  listening  to  the 
people's  voices  as  they  passed  backwards  and  forwards. 
It  was  late  when  I  got  to  his  house,  and  as  I  drew  near,  I 
saw  that  there  were  a  crowd  of  people  outside  it.    My  heart 


292  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

gave  a  great  leap.  Something  might  have  happened.  I 
hurried  on,  and  stood  amongst  the  crowd.  There  were 
policemen  guarding  the  house,  and  in  all  the  lower  rooms 
there  were  lights  flashing  and  moving  about.  There  was  a 
man  there  whose  face  I  knew,  and  I  touched  him  on  the 
arm. 

"  '  What  is  it?  '  I  asked. 

"  '  Amies  Rutten  has  been  shot! '  he  answered. 

"  '  Dead?  '  I  demanded. 

"<  Stone  dead!' 

"I  think  I  burst  out  laughing ;  I  could  not  help  it !  I  know 
that  he  looked  at  me  as  though  I  were  mad,  and  I  walked 
away  along  the  streets  and  into  the  Park,  laughing  all  the 
way  softly  to  myself.  Oh,  it  was  horrible,  Bryan!  I  was 
hysterical!  I  scarcely  knew  what  I  was  doing!  I  didn't 
seem  to  realize  the  horror  of  it  at  all !  I  simply  felt  that  the 
cords  which  had  been  dragging  me  down  into  hell  had  been 
cut,  and  that  I  was  free." 

"  Who  shot  him?  "  Bryan  asked. 

She  turned  a  little  pale. 

"  You  remember  —  the  man  I  went  to,  when  he  refused 
to  give  me  the  papers,  the  man  Jim  told  me  to  go  to." 

"  Yes." 

"  It  was  through  that.    It  was  some  secret  society !  " 

"  My  God!    Are  you  sure?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered.    "  Here  is  the  proof!  " 
She  crossed  the  room,  and  took  an  envelope  out  of  her 
desk.    She  put  it  into  Bryan's  hand. 

"  That  night,  this  was  left  in  my  rooms,  sealed  as  you 
see  it!  It  is  yours!  Take  it!  After  all,  you  see,  Amies 
Rutten  was  false.    He  did  not  give  me  all  the  papers!  " 

He  put  it  into  his  pocket  mechanically. 

"  And  Skein?  "  he  asked.  "  Did  you  ever  see  or  hear  of 
him  again?  " 


A   SORROW'S   CROWN   OF   SORROW       293 

She  shuddered.  "  I  heard  of  him !  He  was  an  English- 
man who  had  become  the  tool  of  Amies  Rutten.  He  sent 
him  out  to  get  those  papers  from  Jim.  All  that  tale  of  his 
was  false.  I  read  of  his  end  the  day  I  left  America.  He 
was  picked  up  by  a  caravan  in  the  desert,  raving  mad,  and 
he  died  in  a  hospital  in  San  Francisco." 

"  Tell  me  how  you  got  here,"  he  asked.  "  What  hap- 
pened after  that  night?  " 

"  Why,  the  next  day  I  had  a  letter,  and  a  lawyer  came 
to  see  me.  Amies  Rutten  had  left  me  fifty  thousand  dollars. 
I  felt  afraid  to  take  it,  but  I  did.  And  I  dressed  in  black, 
and  went  to  his  funeral.  I  —  I  tried  to  pray  for  him. 
Afterwards  I  went  to  New  York,  and  took  the  steamer  for 
England.  I  wanted  to  get  right  away  from  America.  On 
the  boat  there  was  a  concert  one  night,  and  I  sang.  Mr. 
Doyle,  the  manager  of  this  theatre,  was  on  board,  and  he 
asked  me  if  I  would  have  some  lessons  in  London,  and  go 
on  the  stage.  I  was  quite  willing  —  and  that  is  all!  Now, 
about  yourself,  please?  "  she  wound  up,  with  a  little  sigh  of 
relief. 

"  My  story  is  very  uneventful  compared  with  yours,"  he 
said.    "  You  remember  the  gold  find  at  the  Blue  River?  " 

She  nodded.    "  Why,  yes." 

"  Well,  it  has  made  me  a  very  rich  man;  and  Pete 
Morrison  —  you  remember  Pete  —  he  sends  me  my  share 
down  to  the  last  penny.  I  have  a  home  down  in  the  coun- 
try, and  I  have  made  some  friends.  I  have  come  up  to 
town  —  to  be  fashionable!  "  He  wound  up  with  a  laugh 
which  savoured  a  little  of  bitterness. 

"To  be  fashionable!"  she  repeated,  looking  at  him  as 
though  for  the  first  time  she  noticed  the  correctness,  even 
fastidiousness,  of  his  evening  attire.  "  You  are  changed, 
Bryan.    I  wonder " 

She  rose  suddenly  from  her  seat,  and  commenced  walking 


294  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

up  and  down  the  room,  with  her  hands  clasped  behind  her 
back,  walking  with  that  wonderful  sinuous  grace  of  carriage 
about  which  the  youth  of  London  were  raving. 

She  stopped  in  front  of  him.  The  colour  came  and  went 
in  her  cheeks,  her  bosom  was  heaving.  Before  he  could  stop 
her,  she  had  thrown  herself  upon  her  knees  before  him,  and 
her  hands  were  twined  around  his  neck. 

"Bryan,  my  love!"  she  murmured  passionately,  "I 
have  been  so  lonely,  so  very  lonely.  Tell  me  that  the  old 
days  are  come  again  now.  I  am  weary  of  living  alone. 
You  care  for  me  still  —  just  a  little?  I  don't  ask  for  too 
much,  Bryan,"  she  pleaded,  tightening  her  clasp  around  his 
neck,  and  trying  to  bring  his  lips  to  hers.  "  I  don't  want 
to  interfere  with  any  other  part  of  your  life,  I  don't  want 
to  know  your  friends  —  only  let  me  belong  to  you !  Come 
to  me  sometimes,  as  often  as  you  can.  London  is  so  sad  and 
lonely,  I  cannot  be  without  you,  Bryan,  my  love!  " 

He  kissed  her;  he  could  not  help  it.  Then  he  drew  a 
little  away,  and  kept  her  hands  clasped  in  his.  Her  pas- 
sionate pleading  and  her  beauty  had  stirred  him  in  a  vague, 
strange  way.  He  felt  that  his  own  heart  was  beating  wildly. 
It  was  only  with  an  effort  that  he  could  speak  calmly  to  her. 

"  Myra,"  he  said,  "you  must  not  talk  like  this!  You 
and  I  have  passed  into  another  stage  of  existence.  What 
we  did  in  that  great  New  World,  where  all  life  seemed  freer 
and  simpler,  would  not  —  be  right  here.  You  were  very 
good  to  me  in  those  days,  and  they  were  very  pleasant; 
but  here,  in  London,  it  is  different.  You  have  a  name  and 
a  future  before  you!  People  judge  things  differently  here. 
They  would  —  oh,  don't  you  understand?  " 

"Bryan!" 

He  stopped  at  once.   Something  in  her  voice  warned  him. 

"  Are  you  married?  " 

"  No." 


A   SORROW'S   CROWN   OF   SORROW       295 

"  Are  you  engaged?  " 

"  No  —  not  yet." 

"  Are  you  going  to  be?  " 

"  I  —  hope  so." 

"Ah!" 

She  drew  a  deep  breath.  The  colour  suddenly  left  her 
cheeks.  Even  her  lips  seemed  white.  Her  eyes  were  dry 
and  tearless. 

"  You  might  just  as  well  have  told  me  so,  as  have  tried 
to  be  —  what  is  the  word?  —  moral,"  she  said  quietly. 
"  Men  do  not  think  of  those  things  when  they  love.  You  do 
not  love  me  —  a  little  bit !   That  is  all." 

There  was  a  dead  silence.  Bryan  glanced  at  the  clock  on 
the  chimneypiece,  and  wondered,  in  a  dull  sort  of  way, 
whether  Lady  Helen  had  left  the  Forresters',  and  what  she 
thought  of  his  absence.  He  knew  exactly  the  amount  of 
regret  she  would  feel  at  his  non-appearance,  and  he  could 
even  hear  her  half-careless  question  as  to  its  cause.  A  coal 
fell  on  the  hearth,  and  he  glanced  up.  Myra  was  leaning 
back  on  the  couch,  with  her  face  buried  in  its  cushions. 

He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then  bent  over  her. 

"Myra!" 

No  answer. 

He  took  her  hand.  It  was  yielded  lifelessly,  and  without 
resistance. 

"  Myra,  I  knew  her  years  before  I  ever  knew  you  —  be- 
fore I  came  to  California  at  all.  Only,  in  those  days,  she  was 
so  far  above  me  that  I  scarcely  dared  to  think  of  her.  It 
was  partly  because  of  her  that  I  left  England.  Now,  I  am 
rich,  and  her  friends  are  becoming  my  friends." 

She  did  not  look  up  at  him,  but  her  sobs  ceased. 

"Have  you  asked  her  to  marry  you?  Has  she  prom- 
ised?" 

"  Not  yet!    She  is  very  proud,  and  her  family  are  what 


296     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

we  call  in  England,  noble.  I  am  only  rich.  I  have  not  even 
a  name.    Yet  I  think  she  will  say  '  yes/  soon." 

"  What  is  she  like?  Is  she  anything  like  me  —  in  looks, 
I  mean/'  she  added  hastily. 

"  Not  in  the  least!  "  he  answered.  "  She  is  fair,  and  she 
has  blue-gray  eyes,  and  her  face  is  much  colder  than  yours. 
Then,  her  manner  is  very  different.  She  is  very  reserved, 
and  I  am  afraid,  a  little  too  proud." 

She  nodded  slowly. 

"  She  is  just  like  these  icy  aristocratic  English  girls  I 
have  read  about.    And  you  love  her?  " 

He  did  not  make  any  direct  answer.  He  could  not  have 
told  why  he  avoided  doing  so.  To  him  these  moments  were 
almost  as  bitter  as  to  her.  The  tragedy  of  this  girl's  life  was 
summed  up  in  him.  However  little  he  had  been  to  blame 
in  the  first  case,  he  could  never  hereafter  deny  that  he  had 
been  the  arbiter  of  her  fate.  She  had  been  his,  had  be- 
longed to  him  absolutely,  body  and  soul.  She  had  given 
herself  to  him  because  she  loved  him,  and,  man-like,  he  had 
accepted  the  sacrifice  as  a  perfectly  natural  thing.  The 
memory  of  those  days  burned  within  him  as  he  sat  there. 
He  fancied  them  known  to  the  world.  He  fancied  Lady 
Helen,  to  him  the  prototype  of  all  purity,  looking  with  a 
scorn  too  deep  for  words  upon  this  chapter  of  his  life. 

She  sat  up  at  last,  and  turned  towards  him.  He  was 
startled  to  see  the  deep  lines  under  her  eyes,  and  the 
intense  pallor  of  her  cheeks. 

"  Shall  we  be  —  quite  strangers,  then?  "  she  asked. 
"  Shall  you  never  come  to  see  me?  " 

In  his  heart  he  knew  that  it  were  far  better  not,  but  he 
lacked  the  brutal  courage  to  say  so. 

"  Of  course  I  shall  come,  and  often,"  he  declared.  "  And 
some  day  Lady  Helen  —  I  must  tell  her  about  you  —  some 
day  she  will  come  too.    Her  ideas  —  are  a  little  different 


A   SORROW'S   CROWN   OF   SORROW       297 

from  ours;  but  when  she  knows  that  you  saved  my  life  she 
will  want  to  see  you." 

Myra's  great  eyes  were  dim  once  more. 

"  I  have  been  so  lonely/'  she  said.  "  To-night  I  thought 
that  it  was  all  over,  I  could  scarcely  sing  for  joy;  and  now  I 
know  that  it  must  go  on  for  ever  —  for  ever !  You  cannot 
even  spare  me  a  little  of  your  love!  " 

"  I  cannot,"  he  answered  sadly.  "  I  will  come  and  see 
you,  if  I  may,  and  I  will  find  you  friends " 

"  I  do  not  want  any  one  but  you,"  she  interrupted.  "  I 
will  not  have  any  one  else." 

He  stood  up  and  took  his  hat  from  the  table. 

"  Must  you  go?  "  she  asked  softly. 

He  looked  away  down  on  the  floor,  at  the  clock,  any- 
where but  into  that  dark,  passionate  face,  with  its  mute 
pleadings.  He  was  ashamed  to  find  that  his  heart  was 
beating,  that  he  was  battling  with  a  great  desire  to  take  her 
into  his  arms,  to  kiss  the  colour  once  more  into  her  lips  and 
cheeks,  and  to  feel  her  heart  beat  against  his.  The  clock 
on  the  mantelpiece  struck  one.   He  held  out  both  his  hands. 

"  Good-bye,  Myra,"  he  said.  "I  —  I  will  come  and  see 
you  again  very  soon." 

She  walked  downstairs  with  him.  At  the  door  she  held 
up  her  white,  tear-stained  face  .  He  had  no  choice  but  to 
stoop  and  kiss  her. 

Then  he  walked  away  across  the  broad  square,  and  into 
the  silent  streets,  with  the  fire  of  her  kiss  still  upon  his  lips. 
He  walked  with  bent  head  and  knitted  brows.  What  would 
Lady  Helen  say  to  this? 


CHAPTER   III 

THE  EAST  AND  THE  WEST 

Society  had  upon  the  whole  been  very  kind  indeed  to 
Bryan.  Not  content  with  accepting  him  at  Lord  Wesse- 
mer's  instigation,  it  had  chosen  to  make  something  of  a 
celebrity  of  him.  Here  was  a  man,  reported  to  be  rich  as 
Midas,  who  had  actually  toiled  for  his  own  wealth,  with  his 
own  hands,  and  yet  presented  the  tout  ensemble  of  a  gentle- 
man of  polish  and  culture,  subtly  mixed  with  a  dash  of 
pleasing  originality.  In  a  week  or  two  after  his  arrival  in 
London,  Bryan  found  himself  a  member  of  several  fairly 
exclusive  clubs,  and  the  recipient  of  more  invitations  than 
he  could  possibly  accept.  Without  the  least  desire  on  his 
part,  society  chose  to  make  of  him  something  of  a  lion.  The 
papers  chronicled  his  comings  and  his  goings.  He  received 
a  good  many  delightful  little  invitations  which  were  neither 
written  in  the  third  person  nor  printed  upon  cards;  and 
finally  when,  at  Lord  Wessemer's  suggestion,  he  bought 
some  horses  and  commenced  to  drive  in  the  Park,  a  crack 
sporting  journal  spoke  of  him  as  one  of  the  best  amateur 
whips  of  his  day. 

To  Lord  Wessemer,  Bryan's  success  was  the  source  of  a 
good  deal  of  cynical  amusement,  mingled  with  a  strong 
undercurrent  of  deep  satisfaction.  Lady  Helen  was  at  first 
surprised,  and  then  to  her  own  amazement,  gratified  by  it. 

298 


THE   EAST   AND   THE   WEST  299 

Unconsciously  her  manner  towards  Bryan  altered.  She  was, 
so  far  as  she  was  capable  of  such  sentiment,  touched  by  the 
stubborn  devotion  with  which  he  had  moulded  all  things 
towards  the  accomplishment  of  what  she  knew  to  be  his 
great  desire.  She  became  less  reserved,  and  occasionally 
almost  confidential.  She  treated  him  with  perhaps  more 
consideration  than  she  had  ever  treated  any  man  before. 
She  went  even  so  far  as  to  offer  him  what,  coming  from  her, 
was  equivalent  to  direct  encouragement.  And  her  altered  de- 
meanour was  only  the  outward  sign  of  a  marked  change  in 
her  own  feelings.  It  was  not  without  reason  that  her  de- 
tractors had  called  her  cold  and  passionless;  but  now,  for 
the  first  time,  she  felt  a  faint  but  delightful  suggestion  of 
something  within  her  more  womanly  and  natural  —  the 
stirring  of  a  new  emotion,  for  whose  sake  it  seemed  possible 
to  her  that  she  might  be  content  to  lay  aside  some  measure 
of  her  pride.  A  sort  of  shyness  came  to  her  sometimes  when 
Bryan's  great  figure  moved  through  the  throngs  of  people 
at  some  reception  to  her  side.  She  became  more  interested 
in  the  great  passionate  questions  of  the  day.  A  certain 
hardness  was  wearing  away  from  her  mannerisms.  She  had 
always  been  admired ;  this  year  she  was  even  popular,  and 
a  painting  of  her  in  the  academy  by  a  great  artist  was  one 
of  the  season's  successes.  She  had  become  so  far  human  as 
to  be  conscious  of  a  distinct  feeling  of  vexation  at  Bryan's 
non-appearance  at  Mrs.  Forrester's  reception.  Perhaps 
had  she  known  exactly  where  he  was,  she  might  have  ex- 
perienced an  altogether  new  sensation. 

Bryan  had  a  troubled  night  after  his  visit  to  the  Hilarity 
Theatre,  and  in  the  morning  he  was  disturbed  and  restless. 
He  rose  at  the  usual  time,  and  ordered  his  horses  for  the 
Park ;  but  when  they  came  round,  he  sent  them  back  again. 
After  all,  he  felt  more  like  walking.  So  he  set  out  —  but 
not  towards  the  Park.    In  less  than  half  an  hour  he  found 


300  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

himself  in  Portland  Place.  He  stopped  short  on  the  pave- 
ment close  to  the  "  Langham  Hotel/'  and  frowned.  Why 
on  earth  had  he  come  here?  Why  did  he  want  to  see  her 
again?  Then  he  looked  down  towards  Weymouth  Street, 
and  thought  of  those  lonely  days  she  had  told  him  of. 
A  flash  of  sudden  recollection  showed  him  that  little  scene 
in  the  desert,  when  she  had  stood  beside  him  with  the  smok- 
ing revolver  clenched  in  her  fingers,  the  saviour  of  his  life; 
and  again  he  saw  himself,  sick  almost  to  death  in  her 
lodgings  at  San  Francisco,  and  this  woman,  pale  with  pri- 
vations and  suffering,  tending  him  and  winning  him  back 
to  life  with  dauntless  and  never-failing  devotion.  She  had 
done  these  things  for  him,  and  he  —  because  she  was  an 
actress,  and  he  was  going  to  marry  a  great  lady  —  he  was 
leaving  her  friendless  and  unhappy  in  this  lone,  vast  city. 
A  flush  of  shame  dyed  his  cheeks.  He  hesitated  no  longer, 
but  walked  quickly  on,  and  rang  the  bell  at  number  thirty- 
nine. 

Myra  was  sitting  at  the  table,  writing,  with  some  books 
before  her.  Her  look  of  surprise  changed  suddenly  into  one 
of  delight  as  he  entered,  and  she  welcomed  him  with  beam- 
ing face. 

"  How  good  of  you  to  come  so  soon!  "  she  cried,  holding 
out  both  her  hands,  and  looking  up  at  him  with  sparkling 
eyes.  "  Do  you  know,  I  was  feeling  real  lonesome  this 
morning. " 

He  glanced  at  the  books  upon  the  table. 

"  Studying?  "  he  asked  lightly. 

"  I  was  reading  French,"  she  answered,  pushing  them 
away.  "  I'm  dreadfully  ignorant!  Never  mind  that  now! 
I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  —  and,  Bryan,  is  that  how  the  men 
dress  in  London?    You  look  fine!  " 

Bryan  put  his  silk  hat  on  the  table,  and  laughed.  He  was 
wearing  the  regulation  frock-coat  and  gray  trousers,  and  a 


THE   EAST   AND   THE   WEST  301 

gardenia  in  his  button-hole.  In  his  hand  he  was  carrying 
a  great  bunch  of  Neapolitan  violets,  pale  and  fragrant, 
which  he  had  bought  at  a  florist's  on  the  way.  He  held  them 
out  to  her,  and  she  accepted  them,  with  a  little  cry  of 
delight. 

"  All  the  men  dress  alike,  here!  "  he  remarked.  "  Don't 
you  ever  go  out?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  Not  very  often!  Somehow  I  feel  so  lonely  here  by  my- 
self, and  the  girls  at  the  theatre  are  very  nice,  but  I  don't 
seem  to  get  on  with  them.  You  see,  I  started  with  being 
just  a  chorus  girl,  and  I  don't  think  they  liked  my  advanc- 
ing quite  so  quickly." 

"  Would  you  like  to  go  for  a  drive?  "  Bryan  asked  rashly. 

"Better  than  anything  in  the  world!  Do  you  really 
mean  it?  " 

It  was  too  late  for  hesitation.    He  got  up  and  took  his  hat. 

"  I'll  call  for  you  in  three-quarters  of  an  hour!  "  he  said, 
looking  at  his  watch.    "  Be  ready!" 

She  took  his  hands  and  shook  them  gaily.  "  Dear  old 
boy !  "  she  exclaimed.    "  Kiss  me,  Bryan !  " 

He  could  do  nothing  else.  Then  he  hurried  away,  took 
a  hansom  at  the  corner,  and  rattled  back  to  his  chambers. 
In  a  few  minutes  after  the  three-quarters  of  an  hour  he  was 
back  in  Weymouth  Street,  and  Myra,  looking  the  perfection 
of  dainty  good  looks,  was  waiting  for  him,  quietly  dressed 
in  a  black  astrachan  jacket  and  hat. 

She  went  up  to  the  horses  with  a  little  cry  of  admiration, 
and  patted  their  satin  coats.  Then  she  looked  up  at  Bryan 
with  glowing  cheeks. 

"  How  delightful!"  she  exclaimed.  "  What  lovely 
horses!  " 

"  Come  round  here,  and  get  up,"  he  said.  "  I  can't  get 
down  to  help  you,  they're  a  little  fresh  this  morning.   That's 


302     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

right/'  he  added,  as  she  jumped  up  like  a  cat,  to  the  seat 
by  his  side.  "  Let  them  go,  John.  Steady,  Lady  Betty! 
Gently,  now!    Gently!  " 

There  was  a  little  preliminary  prancing,  and  they  were 
off,  rattling  up  Portland  Place.  It  was  a  soft,  spring  morn- 
ing, and  the  air  was  delightful.  Regent  Street,  as  usual, 
was  crowded,  and  once  or  twice  they  wTere  blocked.  Myra 
chattered  away  gaily,  and  Bryan's  turn-out  and  horses 
being  particularly  smart,  a  good  many  people  looked  round 
at  him. 

"  Who  was  that  lady  who  bowed  to  you  so  oddly?  "  Myra 
asked,  as  an  elderly  lady,  passing  quite  close  to  them  in  an 
open  landau,  favoured  them  with  a  particularly  deliberate 
stare  from  behind  a  pair  of  "  pince-nez." 

"  It  was  Lady  Warburton!  "  Bryan  answered,  frowning. 

He  had  received  one  or  two  rather  curious  salutations, 
and  for  the  first  time  it  dawned  upon  him  that  he  was  doing 
a  thing  likely,  at  any  rate,  to  excite  comment. 

"  Do  you  remember  driving  me  out  in  a  buggy  in  the 
Central  Park,  San  Francisco?  "  she  asked,  laughing.  "  The 
horse  would  run  sideways,  and  you  got  so  cross !  " 

"  Yes,  I  remember!  Why,  Myra,  do  you  know  Sir  George 
Conyers?  " 

The  gentleman  in  question  had  almost  stopped  on  the 
pavement  as  they  passed,  and  after  a  nod  to  Bryan,  had 
saluted  Myra  with  marked  empressement.  She  had  re- 
turned his  bow  civilly  but  coldly. 

"  Mr.  Doyle  introduced  me  to  him  at  the  theatre!  "  she 
answered  quietly.  "  He  was  good  enough  to  make  violent 
love  to  me  five  minutes  afterwards,  and  wanted  me  to  go  to 
a  place  called  Richmond  to  dinner  one  Sunday!  " 

"  Of  course  you  did  not  go?  "  Bryan  exclaimed. 

She  looked  at  him,  and  he  was  ashamed  of  the  question. 

"  No,  I  did  not  go!  "  she  said.    "  I  do  not  like  men  like 


THE    EAST  AND   THE   WEST  303 

Sir  George  Conyers,  and  I  guess  there  must  be  an  awful  lot 
of  them  in  London.  In  San  Francisco  a  girl  has  pretty 
rough  times,  living  alone;  but  if  she's  firm,  the  men  don't 
worry  her.    In  London  it  is  very  much  harder." 

He  looked  at  her  inquiringly. 

"  That  is  one  reason  why  I  do  not  go  out,"  she  continued. 
"  Some  of  the  men  who  have  seen  me  at  the  theatre  have 
been  very  rude  to  me  when  they  have  met  me  alone.  Sir 
George  actually  dared  to  call,  and  send  up  his  card!  " 

"  What  did  you  do?  "  Bryan  asked. 

"  Oh,  I  returned  it  by  the  servant,  and  told  her  to  say 
that  he  must  have  made  a  mistake.  He  actually  offered  the 
girl  a  sovereign  to  show  him  up!  She  closed  the  door  in 
his  face,  I  believe!  " 

Bryan  laughed  softly.  He  knew  Sir  George  Conyers,  and 
disliked  him.  He  knew,  too,  that  the  bare  association  of 
his  name  with  any  woman's  was  sufficient  to  destroy  her 
reputation. 

"  Mr.  Doyle  should  not  have  introduced  him  to  you,"  he 
said.    "  He  is  not  a  nice  man  for  any  woman  to  know." 

"  I  thought  not,"  she  answered.  "  I  asked  Mr.  Doyle  not 
to  introduce  me  to  any  more  people,  and  he  has  not." 

Bryan  turned  and  looked  down  at  her.  They  were  out 
of  London  now  —  almost  in  the  country. 

"  Myra,  you  have  been  wonderfully  discreet!  "  he  said. 

"  It  was  because  I  was  sure  that  I  should  see  you  again, 
Bryan !  "  she  answered  softly.    "  I  was  waiting  for  you !  " 

There  was  a  short  silence.  Bryan  was  busy  with  his 
horses.  Presently  he  turned  their  heads  homewards,  and 
they  were  approaching  Kensington  again. 

"  There  is  one  place  in  London,  Bryan,  that  I  should  like 
to  see  so  much,"  she  remarked;  "  I  wonder  whether  we  go 
anywhere  near  it?  " 

"  What  place  is  it?  "  he  asked  quickly. 


304  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT  SNARE 

"  The  Park !" 

Bryan  hesitated  for  a  moment  and  then  felt  ashamed  of 
himself.  Had  he  been  older  and  wiser  in  the  world's  ways, 
he  would  have  made  some  excuse,  would  have  promised  to 
take  her  another  day  —  anything  rather  than  drive  down 
Hyde  Park  with  Myra  by  his  side.  But  he  was  only  in  his 
noviciate,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  his  first  impulse  was 
mean.  There  was  only  one  person  whom  he  prayed  that  he 
might  not  meet,  and  that  was  Lady  Helen. 

"  We  can  go  home  right  through  the  Park!  "  he  declared. 
"  I  ought  to  have  thought  of  it !  " 

His  hesitation  had  been  only  momentary,  but  she  had 
noticed  it. 

"  Perhaps  you  would  rather  not  drive  there  just  now,  and 
meet  your  friends  —  with  me!  "  she  suggested  gravely.  "  I 
don't  mind,  really!  " 

Bryan  was  quite  sure  then  that  his  first  impulse  had 
been  the  impulse  of  a  cad.  In  a  wilder  land  she  had  not 
hesitated  to  offer  her  life  for  his;  and  was  he  to  shrink  from 
showing  himself  by  her  side  before  a  crowd  of  fashionable 
men  and  women?    He  was  heartily  ashamed  of  himself. 

11  Silly  girl!  "  he  said,  smiling  down  at  her.  "  I  suppose 
you  think  I  ought  to  consider  the  amount  of  envy  I  shall 
excite.    I  shall  do  no  such  thing !  " 

The  remainder  of  the  drive  was  an  object  lesson  to  Bryan, 
which  he  did  not  readily  forget.  The  greetings  he  received 
—  and  for  a  new  man  he  knew  a  great  many  people  — 
varied  curiously  in  proportion  to  the  moral  respectability 
of  the  saluter.  There  was  no  possibility  of  any  one  whom 
he  knew  failing  to  recognize  him,  for  he  sat  up  head  and 
shoulders  above  most  of  the  men  driving  themselves,  a  fine 
figure  of  a  well-turned-out  man.  There  were  one  or  two 
women  who,  after  a  long  stare  at  his  companion,  looked 
away  from  him  altogether,  but  the  majority  bowed  either 


THE   EAST   AND   THE   WEST  305 

coldly,  or  with  a  curious  expression  which  puzzled  Bryan. 
Mrs.  Colvesson  Stuart,  who  was  the  leader  of  a  very  fast  set, 
nodded  knowingly,  and  laughed  in  his  face;  the  Hon.  Mrs. 
Esmo  Stuart,  her  cousin,  on  the  other  hand,  half  closed 
her  eyes,  and  looked  away  from  him  with  the  air  of  a  woman 
irretrievably  shocked.  The  men  were  almost  effusive  in 
their  greetings,  although  they,  too,  seemed  to  temper  their 
cordiality  with  a  spice  of  wonder.  Myra  was  perfectly  well 
known  by  sight;  in  her  way  her  personality  was  as  marked 
and  distinguished  as  was  Bryan's.  There  was  no  possibility 
of  any  mistake.  Mr.  Bryan  Bryan,  the  Californian  million- 
aire, and  protege  of  Lord  Wessemer,  was  driving  Myra 
Mercier,  from  the  "  Hilarity."  The  fact  was  patent,  and  to 
the  beholders  it  had  a  meaning  of  its  own. 

Bryan  had  driven  slowly,  out  of  a  certain  spirit  of  bra- 
vado; but  he  was  not  sorry  when  they  neared  the  exit.  But 
the  worst  was  not  over.  At  Buckingham  Gate  a  low 
barouche,  with  the  well-known  Wessemer  liveries,  turned 
into  the  Park.  Then  Bryan  knew  that  what  he  had  been 
praying  might  not  happen,  had  come  to  pass. 

For  once,  in  her  life  Lady  Helen  almost  lost  her  air  of 
serene  and  lofty  composure.  Her  bow  to  Bryan  was  un- 
mistakably haughty,  and  a  bright  spot  of  colour  burned  in 
her  cheeks.  Her  eyes  met  his  for  one  moment.  Then  she 
looked  deliberately  away,  and  the  carriages  passed  one 
another. 

Myra  looked  up  in  Bryan's  face. 

■"  Who  was  that  girl,  Bryan?  "  she  asked  quietly.  "  You 
knew  her,  didn't  you?  She  looked  at  me  as  though  —  as 
though  I  were  something  dreadful." 

"  That  was  Lady  Helen  Wessemer!  "  he  answered.  "  I 
don't  think  she  meant  to  look  so!  " 

She  glanced  up  at  him  and  understood.  For  his  part,  he 
was  man  enough  to  hide  his  feelings,  and  for  the  rest  of  the 


306  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

way  he  talked  to  her  gaily.  Innately,  too,  he  felt  a  little 
rebellious.  He  did  not  feel  that  he  had  done  anything  to 
merit  that  look  of  scorn. 

He  turned  towards  the  Strand  instead  of  westwards,  and 
drove  into  the  courtyard  of  the  Savoy  Restaurant.  The 
groom  sprang  down  to  the  horses'  heads. 

"  Where  are  we?  "  Myra  asked.  "  This  is  not  Portland 
Place!'' 

He  got  down  and  held  out  his  hands  to  her. 

"  We're  going  to  get  something  to  eat,"  he  explained. 
"  You  don't  suppose  I  could  let  you  go  home  without  any 
luncheon,  do  you?  John,  you  can  take  the  horses  home. 
This  way,  Myra!" 

"This  is  delightful!"  she  exclaimed,  as  they  walked 
along  the  corridor.  "  Bryan,  I'm  dreadfully  hungry  — 
hungrier  than  I've  ever  been  in  London,  I  believe!  " 

He  laughed  and  ordered  an  extravagant  luncheon.  They 
had  it  served  upon  the  balcony.  The  sun  was  almost  hot, 
and  even  the  Thames  looked  less  black  and  dirty  than  usual. 
Myra  leaned  back  in  her  chair  with  a  little  sigh  of  content. 

"  I  used  to  dream  on  the  steamer,  coming  over,  of  some 
such  times  as  this,"  she  said.  "  Of  course,  I  know  that  they 
can  never  come  now  —  not  to  last,  I  mean !  I  wonder  — 
tell  me  about  her,  will  you?  "  she  asked  abruptly. 

He  lit  a  cigarette,  and  watched  the  sun  glitter  upon  the 
Houses  of  Parliament. 

"  There  doesn't  seem  to  be  much  to  tell  you,"  he 
answered  slowly.  "  As  yet,  there  is  no  —  her.  When  there 
is  —  I  hope  that  you  will  know  her  for  yourself!  " 

She  sighed,  and  drew  on  her  gloves.  They  had  already 
sat  for  some  time  over  their  luncheon. 

"  Perhaps  —  most  likely,  she  will  not  want  to  know  me!  " 
she  said.  "  Don't  let  us  talk  about  it,  to-day!  I  have  been 
so  happy! " 


THE   EAST   AND   THE   WEST  307 

He  put  her  in  a  hansom  at  the  door,  but  he  did  not  get 
in  with  her,  although  she  moved  her  skirts  for  him,  and 
looked  up  appealingly. 

"  I  shall  either  see  you  to-morrow,  or  write,"  he  said 
leaning  over  from  the  kerb.    "  Good-bye!  " 

She  smiled  at  him  brightly,  and  the  cab  drove  off.  Bryan 
threw  away  his  cigarette,  and  lit  a  cigar. 

"  Now  for  Lady  Helen!"  he  said  to  himself,  grimly, 
"Til  have  it  over!" 


CHAPTER   IV 


DEAD   SEA   FRUIT 


It  was  nearly  four  o'clock  when  Bryan  turned  out  of 
Piccadilly,  and  rang  the  bell  at  Wessemer  House.  He 
inquired  for  Lady  Helen. 

"  I  believe  her  ladyship  is  not  at  home,  sir/'  the  porter 
answered.    "  I  will  find  out." 

He  went  away,  and  returned  again  in  a  minute. 

"  Her  ladyship  will  see  you,  sir,"  he  announced,  with  a 
respectful  bow.    "  Will  you  walk  this  way?  " 

Bryan  followed  a  footman  who  had  come  up,  into  a  small 
apartment  at  the  side  of  the  house,  which  was  not  generally 
used  for  receiving  visitors.  It  was  empty,  but  evidently 
Lady  Helen  had  been  there  lately.  A  piano  was  open,  with 
some  songs  lying  about  on  the  ottoman  before  it,  and  a 
book,  face  downwards,  was  reposing  upon  a  small  round 
table  by  the  fireside.  A  grea^)  bowl  of  flowers  gave  out  a 
strong,  sweet  perfume,  which  Bryan  instantly  associated 
with  her.  He  half  closed  his  eyes,  and  in  a  moment  he  could 
have  fancied  himself  back  again  in  the  amber  drawing-room 
at  Wessemer  Court  —  alone  with  her  on  that  first  night, 
when  he  had  come  into  her  presence  as  Lord  Wessemer's 
guest,  and  on  terms  of  more  than  ordinary  civility.  He  felt 
a  distinct  thrill  of  pleasure  at  the  recollection,  at  the  thought 
of  how  he  had  steadily  won  his  way  into  her  favour,  fighting 
her  prejudices  one  by  one,  always 

308 


DEAD   SEA   FRUIT  309 

The  thread  of  his  meditations  was  broken.  She  had 
entered  the  room,  and  was  advancing  slowly  towards  him. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Bryan?  "  she  said  gravely.  "  Lord 
Wcssemer  has  just  gone  out." 

u  I  did  not  come  to  see  Lord  Wessemer,"  he  answered. 
"  I  came  to  see  you." 

She  swept  past  him,  and  stood  on  the  other  side  of  the 
tiger-skin  hearthrug,  looking  at  him  inquiringly.  She  was 
wearing  a  plain,  perfectly-fitting  gray  gown,  which  fell 
around  her  in  straight,  severe  lines,  accentuating  the  slim- 
ness  of  her  figure.  Her  cheeks  were  a  little  paler  than  usual, 
and  there  was  not  even  the  suggestion  of  any  colour  about 
any  part  of  her  toilette.  Never  had  she  seemed  to  Bryan 
colder  or  more  inaccessible. 

"I  am  sorry  that  I  could  not  get  to  the  Forresters'  last 
night,"  he  began.    "  I  met  an  old  friend." 

"  Yes?  The  —  person  with  whom  you  were  advertising 
yourself  in  the  Park  this  morning,  possibly?  " 

Bryan  frowned  and  kicked  a  footstool  away  from  him. 

"  Yes,"  he  admitted,  "  it  was  Myra  Mercier." 

"  Pardon  me  —  of  the  Hilarity  Theatre,  I  believe?  " 

"  Yes,  she  is  acting  there." 

"Ah!" 

Lady  Helen  took  a  handful  of  roses  from  the  bowl  by 
her  side,  and  smelt  them  absently.  Bryan  felt  that  he  had 
no  particularly  easy  task  before  him. 

"  I  knew  Myra  Mercier  in  San  Francisco,"  he  said 
slowly.  "  When  I  was  ill  there  she  was  kind  to  me.  I  met 
her  last  night  by  accident.  She  is  living  alone  in  London, 
and  of  course  I  wish  to  be  kind  to  her." 

"Naturally!" 

Then  Bryan  suddenly  determined  upon  a  bold  step.  He 
dismissed  the  subject,  and,  suddenly  moving  forward, 
stood  over  her.     She  watched  him,  and  suddenly  felt  a 


310     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

strange  thrill.  The  old  fire  was  in  his  eyes,  and  was  ringing 
in  Ins  tone.  The  thrall  of  his  society  training  had  passed 
away.  He  was  once  more  the  man  who  had  worked  this 
curious  change  in  her  sensations,  a  change  which  as  yet  she 
had  not  admitted  to  herself  —  of  which,  indeed,  she  had 
been  but  dimly  though  sweetly  conscious. 

"  Lady  Helen,  it  was  not  of  any  such  trivial  matter  that 
I  came  to  talk  to  you  this  afternoon/'  he  said.  "  I  have 
come  to  say  that  the  six  months  you  spoke  of  are  almost  up, 
and  I  am  weary  of  waiting.  What  I  am,  you  have  made  me. 
The  desire  for  you  is  the  better  part  of  my  life.  I  want  a 
little  word  from  you  —  you  know  what  it  is !  I  am  not 
worthy  of  you  —  no  one  could  be  —  yet  I  will  try  to  be  all 
that  you  wish.  Will  you  not  try  and  care  for  me  just  a 
little?  " 

He  was  standing  very  close  to  her  now,  and,  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life  under  such  circumstances,  Lady  Helen  was 
not  entirely  mistress  of  herself.  A  faint  pink  colour  was  in 
her  cheeks,  and  her  eyes  had  drooped  to  the  roses  which 
she  held  in  her  hand.  He  dropped  on  one  knee,  and,  taking 
her  other  hand,  held  it  softly  in  his.  She  did  not  draw  it 
away,  and  he  raised  it  to  his  lips. 

"  Lady  Helen!  Helen!  Won't  you  say  that  little 
word?  " 

His  deep  bass  voice  was  musical  with  the  emotion  of  the 
moment,  and  Lady  Helen  felt  her  heart  beating  more 
sweetly  than  ever  she  had  dreamed  of.  She  lifted  her  dim 
eyes,  and  smiled  at  him. 

"  Yes,  if  you  will,  Bryan!  If  you  are  quite  sure  that  you 
want  it  very  much! " 

An  hour  later,  as  Bryan  was  leaving  the  house,  a  servant 
intercepted  him.  "  His  lordship  would  like  a  few  words 
with  you  before  you  go,  in  the  library,  sir/'  he  said. 


DEAD   SEA   FRUIT  311 

Bryan  followed  him  into  the  Earl's  sanctum.  He  was 
writing  a  letter,  but  put  down  his  pen  as  Bryan  entered. 

"  Haven't  seen  anything  of  you  for  a  day  or  two,  Bryan," 
he  remarked,  directly  the  door  was  closed.  "  Been 
away?  " 

Bryan  shook  his  head.  "  No.  I  was  here  on  Tuesday. 
You  had  gone  round  to  Tattersall's,  I  think." 

Lord  Wessemer  nodded,  and  flicked  his  eyeglass  from 
his  eye. 

"  You've  been  in  to  see  Lady  Helen,  they  tell  me?  " 

"Yes!  I've  been  with  her  some  time,"  Bryan  an- 
swered.   "  She  was  good  enough  to  give  me  some  tea." 

Lord  Wessemer  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"  Glad  to  hear  it!  "  he  said  shortly.  "  I  was  afraid  that 
you  might  have  found  Helen — a  little  awkward.  I  can't  say 
that  it  was  a  remarkably  discreet  thing  of  you  to  be  driving 
that  little  girl  from  the  '  Hilarity  '  in  the  Park  this  morning. 
Of  course  these  things  are  done,  I  know,  and  I  should  be 
one  of  the  last  to  moralize,  but  a  liaison  of  that  sort  is  best 
not  paraded." 

"  There  is  no  liaison  of  any  sort  between  that  young  lady 
and  myself,"  Bryan  answered  shortly. 

Lord  Wessemer  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"As  to  that  I  am  quite  indifferent,"  he  declared.  "  If 
you  told  me  that  quite  seriously  I  should,  I  suppose,  believe 
you,  but  let  me  assure  you  of  this  —  not  another  man  or 
woman  who  saw  you  with  her  in  the  Park  this  morning 
would  believe  it.  I  am  very  sorry  that  you  should  have 
happened  to  meet  Lady  Helen.  I  am  bound  to  say  that 
from  her  point  of  view  your  behaviour  was  not  exactly 
delicate.  I  do  not  know  what  she  may  think,  but  I  myself, 
Bryan,  have  begun  to  wonder  whether  your  intentions  with 
regard  to  her  have  wavered.  I  sent  for  you  —  to  ask  you 
this." 


312     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

"  My  intentions  with  regard  to  Lady  Helen  are  what 
they  have  always  been/'  Bryan  answered  steadily. 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  At  the  same  time,  I  must  tell  you 
frankly  that  I  consider  you  have  materially  damaged  your 
cause  to-day.  And  side  by  side  with  that  unfortunate 
incident,  I  have  just  received  a  letter  from  the  Duke  of 
Devonport  telling  me  that,  with  my  permission,  he  proposes 
to  ask  Lady  Helen  to  become  his  wife." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Bryan  did  not  look  at  all 
confounded. 

"  His  Grace  is  too  late,"  he  remarked  quietly. 

Lord  Wessemer  dropped  his  eyeglass  again,  and  looked 
Bryan  in  the  face.    Then  he  held  out  his  hand. 

"I  am  delighted,"  he  said  warmly.  "  When  was 
it?" 

"  Just  now!"  Bryan  told  him.  "An  hour  ago,  Lady 
Helen  consented  to  be  my  wife." 

"  I  am  very  glad  indeed,  Bryan.  I  have  hoped  for  this! 
It  makes  me  feel  lighter-hearted  when  I  think  that,  not- 
withstanding the  wrong  I  have  done  you,  you  have  been 
able  to  win  one  of  the  proudest  women  in  England  to  be 
your  wife." 

Bryan  looked  into  Lord  Wessemer's  face  steadily  for  a 
moment.  Then  he  rose  and  stood  on  the  hearthrug  before 
him.  The  afterglow  from  a  stormy  sunset  had  thrown  a 
strange  glare  of  yellow  light  upon  the  faces  of  the  two  men. 
It  was  odd  how  the  resemblance  between  them,  faint  enough 
at  most  times,  became  deepened  and  intensified  in  the  un- 
natural illumination. 

Then  Bryan  spoke  slowly,  and  with  an  impressive  dis- 
tinctness. 

"  Lord  Wessemer,  would  it  make  you  any  happier  to 
know  that,  though  by  intention  you  wronged  me  and  my 
mother,  in  reality  you  wronged  neither  of  us?  " 


DEAD   SEA   FRUIT  313 

There  was  a  dead  silence.  Lord  Wessemer  was  be- 
wildered. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  Bryan!  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Listen,  then.  I  have  told  you  of  my  adventures  in 
California,  and  of  the  papers  I  obtained  of  the  man  Huntly, 
who  called  himself  Hamilton.  I  also  told  you  that  I  did 
not  believe  that  all  the  papers  had  come  into  my  hands.  I 
was  right.  Yesterday  I  received  another  one.  It  is  a  docu- 
ment, or  rather  half  a  sheet  of  note-paper,  written  by 
Huntly.  The  truth  of  it  I  have  already  ascertained  by  a 
telegram  to  Oxford." 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is!" 

"It  is  simply  this.  It  was  not  you  who  deceived  my 
mother.  It  was  Huntly  who  deceived  you.  When  he 
married  you  he  had  been  a  priest  nearly  a  year.  That 
marriage  was  a  perfectly  just  and  legal  one." 

Lord  Wessemer  sat  down  suddenly.  His  face  was 
ghastly  pale. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  he  faltered.  "  Huntly  was  a 
bad  lot.  He  told  me  that  he  had  been  sent  down  from 
Magdalen;  that  he  had  not  even  taken  priest's  orders." 

"  He  lied!  He  had  been  a  bad  lot,  it  is  true,  but  he  had 
not  been  sent  down,  and  he  had  been  a  priest  nine  or  ten 
months,  when  he  married  you.  His  real  object  was  not  to 
serve  you,  but  to  get  you  into  his  power;  to  hold  this  secret 
over  you  afterwards  as  a  means  of  extorting  money.  This 
he  would  have  done,  but,  as  you  know,  he  was  obliged  to 
fly  from  the  country  almost  immediately  afterwards,  and 
for  many  years  he  dared  not  show  himself.  When  at  last 
he  did  come  back,  you  were  abroad  —  in  India,  I  think.  He 
came  to  me,  dropped  some  vague  hints  when  he  was  drunk, 
and  then  took  alarm  and  fled.  I  followed  him  to  California. 
You  know  all  the  rest.    It  is  very  simple." 

"My  God!" 


314  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

There  was  a  deep  silence  between  the  two  men.  When 
Lord  Wessemer  looked  up,  the  expression  of  his  features 
was  strangely  altered.  The  languid  cynicism  of  the  phi- 
losopher was  gone.  His  face  was  gray  and  strained.  He 
was  suddenly  an  old  man.  Yet  there  was  a  wonderful 
eagerness  in  his  tone. 

"  Bryan!  "  he  cried.  "  You  have  been  cruel  to  keep  this 
from  me  a  moment.  Thank  God;  there  is  time  to  do  you 
justice!    You  must  take  my  name  at  once,  to-day!    I  will 

go  and  see  Lord  A .    You*  are  my  son,  Bryan !    The 

world  shall  know  it,  and  shall  know  how  proud  I  am  to  own 
you!    This  is " 

"Stop!" 

The  words  died  away  on  Lord  Wessemer's  lips.  Some- 
thing in  Bryan's  still,  cold  face  seemed  to  suddenly  chill  the 
glow  which  had  warmed  his  heart.    He  was  silent. 

"  Listen!  "  Bryan  said.  "  You  have  always  borne  the 
name  of  a  proud  man.  I  am  your  son,  and  I,  too,  am  proud. 
I  will  never  take  the  name  to  which  I  am  entitled  only  by  an 
accident.  I  shall  never  take  any  other  name  than  the  one  I 
have  at  present.  I  will  not  be  any  more  your  son  in  the 
future  than  I  have  been  in  the  past.  I  have  sworn  it  by 
the  memory  of  one  whose  life  was  a  sacrifice  to  your  — 
villainy!  " 

Lord  Wessemer  forgot  at  that  moment  all  the  tenets 
which  had  formed  the  text  of  his  life.  He  held  out  his 
hands  to  Bryan,  and  his  eyes  were  blinded  with  tears. 

"  Bryan,  have  pity  on  me!  "  he  pleaded.  "  I  have  re- 
pented, and  I  am  very  lonely.    I  want  a  son !  " 

Bryan  took  up  his  hat  and  moved  towards  the  door.  On 
the  threshold  he  paused  and  looked  back. 

"  There  were  many  years  when  I  wanted  a  father!  "  he 
said  slowly,  "  There  were  many  years  when  my  mother 
wanted  a  husband!  It  is  you  who  sowed  the  seed  of  our 


DEAD   SEA   FRUIT  315 

unhappiness;   you,  too,  must  bear  your  share  of  the  har- 
vest! " 

The  door  opened  and  closed,  and  Bryan  passed  out  into 
the  street.    Lord  Wessemer  was  alone. 


CHAPTER   V 

THE   PROBLEM   OF  TWO   LIVES 

Most  men  of  robust,  virile  development  and  healthy  turn 
of  mind,  have  some  definite  object  in  life  which  holds  a 
distinct  and  prominent  place  in  the  shaping  of  their  des- 
tinies. And  most  men,  having  attained  it,  find  it  a  very 
different  thing  in  their  grasp  to  its  semblance  when  it  lurked 
like  a  vague  shadow  upon  the  perspective  of  their  fancy. 
Bryan  had  won  what  years  ago  had  seemed  like  a  wild  and 
impossible  dream  to  him.  The  woman  who  had  appeared 
to  him  as  the  creature  of  another  world  —  an  altogether 
superior  order  of  beings  —  was  his.  She  had  promised  to 
marry  him.  She  had  even  admitted  that,  in  a  way,  she 
cared  for  him,  that  in  his  presence  she  felt  for  the  first  time 
a  distinct  preference  for  one  of  his  sex. 

The  news  was  announced  with  all  the  eclat  which  society 
journals  and  society  gossip  could  give  it,  and  on  all  hands 
Bryan  was  warmly  congratulated.  For  several  days  he 
could  not  show  himself  at  either  of  his  clubs  without  being 
made  the  martyr  of  the  same  little  stereotyped  speech,  to 
which  he  had  always  to  reply  in  the  same  manner.  One  of 
the  first  to  allude  to  it,  although  his  acquaintance  with  him 
was  of  the  slightest,  was  Sir  George  Conyers. 

"  I  suppose  Weymouth  Street  will  have  to  go?  "  re- 
marked the  baronet,  with  a  knowing  little  laugh,  as  the  two 

316 


THE   PROBLEM   OF   TWO   LIVES  317 

men  stood  together  for  a  minute  or  two.    "  Poor  little  Myra ! 
You're  a  devilish  lucky  fellow,  Bryan!  " 

Bryan  drew  himself  up,  and  looked  at  his  questioner 
coldly. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  do  not  quite  understand  you,"  he  said. 

Sir  George  laughed.  It  was  not  a  particularly  pleasant 
laugh. 

"  Oh,  never  mind !  "  he  answered.  "  Perhaps  I  ought  not 
to  have  mentioned  it.  Fact  is,  I  was  thinking  that  if  there's 
any  vacancy  in  that  quarter,  I  shouldn't  mind  being  in  the 
running  myself.    She's  an  uncommonly  smart  little  girl." 

"  Are  you  alluding  to  Lady  Helen  Wessemer?  "  Bryan 
asked. 

"Lady  Helen!  Of  course  not!  I  mean  Myra  Mercier, 
the  actress  at  the  '  Hilarity.'  I  happened  to  be  round  at  the 
stage-door  one  night  —  little  girl  in  the  chorus  —  when  you 
were  waiting  for  her;  and  you  were  driving  her  in  the  Park 
the  other  day,  weren't  you?  " 

"  I  was  certainly  driving  Miss  Mercier  the  other  day," 
Bryan  answered.  "  She  is  an  old  acquaintance  of  mine; 
and,  pardon  me,  Sir  George,  but  if  you  have  any  remarks 
to  make  about  that  young  lady  to  me,  or  in  my  hearing,  I 
shall  be  glad  if  you  will  allude  to  her  with  more  respect." 

Sir  George  whistled,  and  turning  on  his  heel,  walked 
deliberately  away.  Bryan  strode  out  of  the  club  in  a 
towering  rage. 

His  brougham  was  outside,  and  he  drove  at  once  to 
Wessemer  House.  Lady  Helen  was  at  home,  but  seemed 
surprised  to  see  him. 

"  How  odd  of  you  to  come  at  this  time  in  the  morning!  " 
she  exclaimed,  holding  out  her  hand.  "  I  can  only  spare 
you  a  minute.  I  am  going  out  shopping.  You  look 
worried!  " 

"  Helen,"  he  said  impulsively,  standing  over  her,  "lam 


318     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

weary  of  the  city,  and  of  this  wretched  social  grind  which  all 
leads  to  nothing!  I  am  sick  to  death  of  it  all!  Let  us  go 
down  into  the  country  —  to  Wesserner  Court.  Think  how 
glorious  these  summer  afternoons  would  be,  out  on  the 
moors  or  on  the  cliffs!  This  London  air  stifles  me.  I  am 
sick  of  it  —  sick  of  the  lies,  and  the  false  pretences,  and  the 
brutal  selfishness  of  it  all.  Let  us  go  where  we  can  be  alone 
together,  and  not  see  anybody  else!  " 

She  raised  her  eyebrows,  and  smiled  upon  him,  as  she 
drew  on  her  gloves. 

"  My  dear  Bryan,  what  has  happened  to  put  you  out  this 
morning?  "  she  said.  "  Go  down  to  the  country  in  May! 
Why,  I  never  heard  such  an  awful  suggestion!  Whatever 
should  we  find  to  do?  " 

He  drew  a  little  away  from  her.  There  was  a  curious  pain 
at  his  heart.  He  was  more  disappointed  than  he  cared  to 
own. 

"  It  must  be  as  you  wish,  of  course,"  he  answered  quietly. 
"  I  thought  perhaps  that  you  might  feel  as  I  do  —  that  a 
little  quiet  —  I  seem  to  see  so  little  of  you  just  now  —  might 
be  rather  pleasant.  Do  you  care  so  very  much  for  society 
then,  Helen?  " 

"  I  like  my  place  in  it,"  she  answered  firmly.  "  I  don't 
think  that  there  is  any  life  which  interests  me  so  much  as 
London  life.  I  am  looking  forward  to  entertaining  for  your 
party,  you  know,  Bryan,  when  you  have  made  a  name  for 
yourself  in  Parliament.  I  think  that  my  greatest  ambition 
is  to  have  a  '  salon.'  " 

"  A  '  salon  '!  "  he  repeated. 

"  Yes,  that  sort  of  thing  is  wretchedly  done  nowadays," 
she  continued,  finishing  buttoning  her  gloves.  "  I  don't 
know  whether  I  possess  the  necessary  genius,  but  I  shall 
try.  If  you  are  tired  of  London,  Bryan,  why  don't  you  run 
down  to  the  country  for  a  day  or  two,  by  yourself?  " 


THE   PROBLEM   OF   TWO   LIVES  319 

Here  was  another  little  tug  at  his  heartstrings.  He 
looked  at  her  reproachfully. 

"  Without  you?  " 

"  Why,  yes.  I  do  hope  that  you  are  not  going  to  be 
sentimental,  Bryan!"  she  said  deprecatingly.  "If  there 
is  one  thing  in  the  world  which  I  detest,  it  is  sentiment. 
Now,  see  me  into  the  carriage,  please.  I  have  to  call  for 
Mrs.  Forrester,  and  I  am  late  already." 

He  walked  at  her  right  hand  down  the  broad  steps,  and 
handed  her  across  the  pavement  to  the  perfectly  appointed 
victoria  which  was  waiting  at  the  door. 

"  You  are  dining  here  to-night,  are  you  not?  "  she 
remarked,  as  she  settled  herself  back  amongst  the  cushions. 
"  Half-past  eight,  you  know.    Au  revoir!  " 

Bryan  bowed,  and  watched  the  carriage  roll  away  and 
turn  the  corner  before  he  moved.  Then  he  followed  it 
slowly  westward. 

It  was  not  a  pleasant  walk  for  him.  The  pavement 
around  and  by  his  side  seemed  peopled  with  the  ghosts  of 
his  boyish  dreams  —  the  ghosts  of  those  passionate  longings 
which  had  made  music  in  his  heart  in  those  days  when  he 
toiled  on  his  claim,  spade  in  hand,  on  the  banks  of  the  Blue 
River.  Their  icy  touch  seemed  to  be  on  his  spirits  and  upon 
his  pulses,  cooling  his  warm  blood,  chilling  all  his  hopes  and 
desires.  The  fair,  proud  girl  who  had  wandered  in  upon  his 
vagabond  youth  to  become  the  desire  of  his  life,  was  his 
own.  She  had  promised  to  become  his  wife  —  she,  indeed, 
regarded  him,  in  her  way,  as  a  man  for  whom  it  was  possible 
to  care.  Yet  when  he  had  told  her  of  those  days  of  his  wild 
love,  and  of  his  joy  at  this  final  and  almost  unhoped-for 
consummation,  she  had  smiled  at  him  indulgently  —  had 
listened  as  though  he  were  speaking  in  a  language  which 
she  scarcely  understood.  And  when  he  had  spoken  to  her 
of  the  future,  a  future  which  to  him  seemed  to  contain  noth- 


320     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

ing  but  their  two  selves,  she  had  told  him  of  her  social 
ambitions  and  her  desire  for  a  "  salon."  Well,  after  all,  he 
was  but  a  novice  in  the  fashionable  world  for  which  he  had 
been  striving  to  fit  himself.  As  yet,  things  were  a  little 
obscure  to  him.  He  would  never  believe  —  no,  he  would 
never  dare  to  believe,  that  because  she  was  a  great  lady, 
she  was  any  the  less  a  woman. 

He  looked  up,  vaguely  curious  as  to  his  whereabouts, 
and  suddenly  stopped.  Fate  had  brought  him  to  the  one 
place  which,  that  day  at  any  rate,  he  would  have  avoided. 
He  was  in  Weymouth  Street,  and  only  a  few  doors  away 
from  Myra's  rooms. 

Even  then  he  would  have  turned  and  walked  away,  but 
for  a  carriage  standing  outside  her  door.  Something  in  the 
liveries  seemed  to  him  familiar,  and  he  crossed  the  road  with 
a  heavy  frown  upon  his  face.  It  was  as  he  had  expected: 
the  carriage  of  Sir  George  Conyers. 

He  did  not  hesitate  any  longer,  but  he  rang  the  bell,  and 
inquired  for  Miss  Mercier.  "  She  was  in,"  the  servant 
answered  a  little  doubtfully,  and  he  at  once  prepared  to 
follow  her  upstairs.  Just  as  they  reached  the  second  floor, 
the  door  of  Myra's  sitting-room  opened,  and  Sir  George 
Conyers,  hat  in  hand,  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  will  not  forget.  You  shall  hear  from  me!  " 
he  heard  Myra's  voice  say  from  inside.  Sir  George  bowed 
low,  and  came  out,  standing  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  to  let 
Bryan  pass,  and  nodding  to  him  with  a  geniality  too 
obviously  assumed.  Bryan  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  con- 
ceal the  fact  that  he  was  desperately  angry,  and  walked 
past  him  into  Myra's  sitting-room  without  returning  his 
greeting. 

Myra  was  standing  with  her  hands  behind  her  back, 
looking  out  of  the  window.  At  the  sound  of  Bryan's  step 
she  started  round,  and  gave  a  little  cry. 


THE   PROBLEM   OF   TWO   LIVES         321 

"  Bryan!  "    she  exclaimed.    "  Bryan!  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  I!"  he  answered  gravely.  "You  seem 
surprised!  " 

The  sudden  flush  of  colour  faded  slowly  from  her  cheeks. 
She  looked  at  him  with  a  shade  of  defiance  in  her  manner. 

"  I  did  not  expect  you/'  she  said  slowly.  "  I  have  just 
had  another  visitor,  you  see!  " 

"  Yes,  I  met  him!  "  he  answered  gravely. 

There  was  a  great  bunch  of  stephanotis  and  lilies  on  the 
table,  filling  the  room  with  a  subtle  faint  odour.  He 
opened  the  window,  and  taking  up  the  flowers,  threw  them 
deliberately  into  the  street.  She  did  not  attempt  to  stop 
him,  but  she  laughed,  a  little  hard,  unnatural  laugh. 

"  That  isn't  exactly  polite/'  she  said.  "It  is  not  every 
one  who  thinks  enough  of  me  to  bring  me  flowers!  " 

"  You  shall  have  all  the  flowers  you  want,  Myra,"  he 
answered  quietly,  "  but  not  from  Sir  George  Conyers!  " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  slightly. 

"  Why  not  from  Sir  George?  After  all,  I  don't  suppose 
he's  any  worse  than  the  others,  is  he?  Men  are  all  bad! 
Some  are  selfish,  others  are  vicious!  I  don't  see  much 
difference!  You  don't  know  why  he  came  here  this  after- 
noon, do  you?  " 

"  I  do  not,"  Bryan  answered,  "  but  I  can  guess!  " 

"  Exactly.  It  is  not  difficult!  He  came  to  tell  me  what 
I  had  already  seen  in  the  newspapers  —  about  your  en- 
gagement —  and  he  did  me  the  honour  to  invite  me  to  be- 
come his  mistress!  " 

"  Hound !  "  Bryan  muttered  between  his  teeth.  "  What 
did  you  tell  him?  " 

Myra  drew  herself  up,  and  turned  towards  him.  She 
was  wearing  a  perfectly  plain,  tight-fitting,  black  serge 
dress,  which  seemed  to  show  every  line  of  her  supple, 
sinuous  figure. 


322  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

"  I  told  him  that  I  would  let  him  know/'  she  answered 
coolly. 

Bryan  took  a  quick  step  forward.  Then  he  leaned  with 
both  hands  on  the  back  of  a  chair,  and  looked  at  her. 

"Yes,    I  told    him    that!"    Myra  repeated.     "I 

Oh,  Bryan,  Bryan,  tell  me  quickly!    Is  it  true?  " 

Her  manner  had  suddenly  changed.  The  mask  of 
callousness  had  fallen  away.  She  pointed  to  the  papers 
lying  on  the  table. 

He  could  not  affect  to  misunderstand  her.  "  Yes,  it  is 
true! "  he  answered. 

"  And  you  are  not  coming  to  see  me  any  more?  " 

"  I  did  not  say  so!  " 

"  But  you  are  not?  You  love  her!  You  must  love  her! 
You  cannot  care  for  me,  not  a  little  bit  —  not  a  little  bit. 
Oh,  my  God,  my  God!" 

She  sank  back  on  the  couch,  and  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands.  Bryan  sat  down  beside  her,  and  then  there  was 
a  short  silence,  broken  only  by  the  sound  of  her  weeping.  A 
curious  sense  of  perplexity  came  over  Bryan.  He  would 
have  given  the  world  to  have  taken  her  into  his  arms,  and 
comforted  her;  to  have  kissed  the  tears  away,  and  have 
brought  the  smiles  back  to  her  cheeks.  More  than  once  in 
the  old  days  he  had  done  it.  But  now  there  was  this  new 
barrier  between  them,  and  he  could  only  speak  to  her  from 
behind  it. 

After  a  while  he  spoke.  The  silence  was  becoming  un- 
endurable. 

"  Myra,  I  am  sorry!  God  knows  I  am  sorry!  "  he  said 
in  a  low  tone.  "  I  want  you  to  be  happy;  to  find  some  one 
who  will  be  good  to  you,  and  whom  you  will  care  for.  But 
not  Sir  George  Conyers,  or  any  one  like  him.  I  know  that 
you  are  very  lonely,  dear.  I  want  to  alter  all  that.  I  am 
going  to  speak  to  Lady  Helen.    I  am  going  to  tell  her  — 


THE   PROBLEM   OF   TWO   LIVES  323 

that  you  were  good  to  me  at  San  Francisco,  and  I  am  going 
to  bring  her  here  to  see  you." 

She  suddenly  dropped  his  hands,  and  fell  on  her  knees  at 
his  feet.  She  dashed  the  tears  from  her  great  beautiful  eyes, 
and  held  his  hands  tightly. 

"  Bryan,  my  love,  my  love,  I  do  not  want  to  see  her.  I 
do  not  want  to  see  any  one  in  the  world  but  you.  Listen! 
Marry  her  if  you  love  her  so  much,  but  promise  that  you 
will  come  and  see  me  sometimes.  Love  her  most  —  but  love 
me  a  little!  You  must,  Bryan,  you  must!  If  you  will  do 
this  I  do  not  mind  being  lonely.  I  will  never  speak  to  Sir 
George  Conyers,  or  any  one  else  like  that  again.  But  you 
must  come,  and  when  you  come  you  must  try  and  imagine 
that  after  all  you  do  care  just  a  little  about  me!" 

She  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  drew  close  to 
him.  Her  breath  was  upon  his  cheek,  her  hair  even  brushed 
his  face,  and  the  perfume  of  it  lingered  long  afterwards. 
He  caught  hold  of  her  wrists  and  held  them  firmly. 

"  Myra,"  he  said,  "  I  cannot  come  and  see  you  in  that 
way  after  I  am  married.  I  cannot.  Listen!  Lady  Helen 
shall  be  your  friend.    You  shall  come  to  us!  " 

The  passionate  light  died  out  of  her  face,  but  she  did  not 
stir. 

"  You  forget,"  she  said.  "  She  is  a  great  lady,  and  I  am 
only  a  poor  actress  —  without  a  character.  She  will  not 
come  and  see  me.  It  is  you,  Bryan,  or  despair  with  me. 
Would  it  cost  you  so  much  to  spare  me  just  a  little  corner 
of  your  love?  " 

"  Myra,  don't  ask  me,  don't  ask  me!  "  he  cried.  "  Lady 
Helen  shall  come  and  see  you.  She  will  be  kind.  You 
shall  not  be  left  alone  here,  I  promise  you.  Only  tell  me 
that  you  will  not  receive  any  more  visits  from  Sir  George 
Conyers." 

"  I  promise,"  she  answered  sadly.    "  I  should  not  have 


324     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

seen  him  to-day,  but  when  the  girl  told  me  that  a  gentleman 
wished  to  see  me,  I  thought  that  it  was  you,  and  I  was  so 
glad  that  I  forgot  to  ask  his  name.  Won't  you  kiss  me, 
just  once?  '' 

He  stooped  down  and  kissed  her  forehead  gravely.  The 
touch  of  his  hesitating  lips  seemed  to  chill  her.  She  drew 
back,  and  stood  looking  up  at  him  earnestly. 

"  Bryan,  I  don't  want  you  to  be  deceived  in  me,"  she 
said  quietly.  "  I  am  not  like  some  girls.  So  long  as  I  had 
you,  or  the  hope  of  you,  I  could  live  alone  and  see  no  one 
and  be  contented.  But  that  is  all  over  now.  I  am  going  to 
be  very  miserable,  and  I  must  have  distraction.  I  must 
have  life  and  gaiety,  and  friends  and  pleasure.  I  must  have 
all  these  things  to  keep  me  alive,  if  I  lose  you,  Bryan. 
There !  My  only  chance  is  that  Lady  Helen  may  come,  and 
that  she  may  be  good  to  me  —  for  your  sake.  But,  if  she 
does  not  come,  Bryan,  then  yOu  must  not  blame  me,  what- 
ever happens.  You  have  cast  me  off !  Whatever  happens, 
it  is  not  my  fault." 

Bryan  dared  not  trust  himself  to  speak.  The  problem 
of  this  pale,  passionate  girl  and  her  sundered  life  was  too 
profound  for  him.  In  his  heart  he  felt  that  her  words  were 
true.    Lady  Helen  was  his  only  chance. 

He  went  out  into  the  twilight,  and  passed  through  the 
crowded  streets,  back  to  his  rooms,  like  a  man  in  a  dream; 
and  she,  as  soon  as  the  door  was  closed  upon  him,  threw 
herself  face  downwards  upon  the  rug,  and  sobbed. 


CHAPTER   VI 

LORD   WESSEMER's  ADVICE 

There  was  a  letter  on  his  table  when  Bryan  reached 
home,  with  type-written  address  and  foreign  postmark. 
He  threw  himself  into  his  easy-chair,  and  lighting  a  pipe, 
read  it  slowly. 

"  Redstone  Park,  S.  F. 
"  Dear  Pard, 

"  Yours  to  hand.  Glad  you're  getting  a  good  time. 
Things  are  booming  all  around.  I've  got  a  firm  of  lawyer 
chaps  in  'Frisco  to  make  out  a  sort  of  statement  to  show 
how  our  investments  stand,  and  if  you  feel  like  selling  out 
for  five  million  dollars,  I  reckon  it  can  be  done,  for  there's 
a  sort  of  syndicate  as  '11  buy  us  up  for  ten  millions,  that's 
five  each,  and  I'm  all  for  selling.  The  gold  fever  is  cooling, 
and  there'll  be  no  more  such  dollar-minting  as  has  been, 
and  five  million  dollars  '11  keep  me.  Now,  enclosed  is  the 
address  of  a  firm  of  lawyers  in  London  who  are  sort  of  agents 
for  my  chaps,  and  you  go  and  see  them,  and  if  you're 
satisfied,  you  sign  what  they  call  an  attorney,  and  the  trick's 
done.  You'll  have  cash  for  your  share.  I  shall  take  half 
cash,  half  notes,  because  I'm  on  the  spot,  and  can  watch 
things  a  bit. 

"  Say,  old  chap,  come  over  and  give  us  a  look-up,  won't 
you?  I've  been  and  got  married  —  powerful  superior  sort 
of  woman,  who  reckons  she's  going  to  lay  the  polish  on  me 

325 


326     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

thick!  She's  a  real  good  sort,  though!  I've  got  a  palace 
built  up  here,  right  amongst  the  mountains.  Such  a  view 
there  ain't  nowhere  in  the  States;  though  it's  mostly  wild 
country,  and  the  valley  below  runs  down  to  the  sea.  'Twas 
built  for  a  chap  as  stood  for  a  corner  in  wheat,  but  he  busted, 
and  I  bought  the  place  cheap.  My!  it's  fine,  I  can  tell  you, 
and  if  you'll  come  right  along,  there's  a  suite  o'  rooms  here 
a  sight  too  grand  for  me,  as  '11  fit  you  down  to  the  ground ! 

"  No  more  at  present.  Writing  letters  ain't  much  in  my 
line,  and  I've  got  a  secretary  chap  as  sees  to  that  for  me; 
but  I've  written  this  myself,  barring  the  address,  as  you  can 
well  see.    Come  right  along ! 

"  From  your  Old  Pard, 

"  Pete  Morrison/' 

Bryan  folded  the  letter  and  put  it  carefully  into  his 
pocket.  Then  he  half  closed  his  eyes,  and  leaned  back. 
The  depression  against  which  he  had  been  battling  came 
over  him  now  with  a  rush  and  triumphed.  For  days  and 
weeks  he  had  been  slowly  sickening  of  this  new  life  of  his, 
this  wearisome  round  of  society  functions,  of  regulation 
dress,  of  dinners,  and  of  crushes.  He  was  weary  of  the 
people,  and  of  the  platitudes  which  seemed  to  form  the 
major  part  of  their  conversation;  weary  of  the  part  which 
he  himself  had  to  play,  of  the  small,  insignificant  pleasures 
in  which  there  seemed  to  him  to  be  nothing  virile  or  robust. 
The  spontaneity  of  life  seemed  to  him  to  be  choked  up  and 
stultified.  All  that  vague  longing  for  the  open  country,  for 
the  breezy  solitudes  of  the  mountains  and  hills,  which  had 
come  to  him  only  a  few  hours  ago,  returned  now  with  a  wider 
and  deeper  significance  as  he  laid  down  his  partner's  letter. 
The  wild  freedom  of  that  vast  country,  and  the  house  upon 
the  mountains,  appealed  to  him  at  that  moment  with  a 
subtle  and  peculiar  force.   He  found  himself  thinking  with  a 


LORD   WESSEMER'S   ADVICE  327 

certain  wistfulness  of  those  days  of  healthy  manual  labour, 
and  long  dreamy  nights  under  the  shadows  of  the  Sierras. 
Life  then  was  a  much  simpler  thing,  at  any  rate,  and 
assuredly  a  healthier.  Yet  with  a  sudden  pang  he  remem- 
bered that  the  most  delightful  part  of  the  long  moonlight 
nights  had  been  when  he  had  lain  down  upon  the  short  turf 
with  his  face  turned  to  the  dimly  outlined  hills,  and  dreamed 
of  a  fair,  proud  girl  who  had  stooped  to  be  kind  to  him  in  a 
far-away  country,  and  whom  now  he  had  won  for  his  wife. 
Surely  this  triumph  of  his  must  atone  for  all,  must  in  the 
end  sweeten  the  empty  days  and  the  flavourless  life!  And 
at  the  thought  of  Lady  Helen,  he  remembered  the  crisis 
which  he  had  yet  to  face.  By  every  law  of  common  grati- 
tude and  humanity,  he  felt  that  he  was  bound  to  hold  out 
his  hand  to  Myra,  to  keep  her  from  the  dark  unfathomable 
depths  into  which,  without  some  such  aid,  it  seemed  to  him 
that  she  must  surely  fall.  He  himself  was  responsible  for 
her  future!  If  she  fell,  the  fall  would  be  his ;  if  she  sinned, 
his  would  be  the  sin!  Alone  he  could  not  help  her.  Only 
a  few  months  ago  there  had  been  one  to  whom  he  could 
have  gone  with  absolute  confidence;  but  that  was  all  over. 
She  was  dead!  There  was  only  Lady  Helen;  and  though 
in  his  heart  he  told  himself  that  he  need  have  no  fear,  that 
when  he  had  laid  before  her  Myra's  friendless  state  and 
dangerous  position,  she  would  be  swift  to  hold  out  her  hand, 
yet  even  from  his  broad  and  naturally  obtuse  view  of  wom- 
ankind, he  saw  something  of  the  awkwardness,  almost 
the  indelicacy,  of  the  situation. 

There  was  a  light  tap  at  the  door.  Bryan  looked  up, 
waving  away  the  smoke  which  hung  around  him,  and  saw 
Lord  Wessemer. 

"  Not  dressed,  Bryan!"  he  remarked,  with  some  sur- 
prise. "  I  suppose  you  know  that  you  are  due  at  Wessemer 
House  at  eight  o'clock?  " 


328     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

Bryan  started  up  and  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  I  had  no  idea  that  it  was  so  late !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I'll 
go  at  once." 

"  I'll  wait  for  you,"  Lord  Wessemer  said.  "  I've  been 
to  my  solicitors,  and  was  rather  late,  so  I  thought  I'd  call  for 
you." 

"  I  shan't  be  ten  minutes/'  Bryan  answered.  "  Help 
yourself  to  cigarettes,  and  ring  for  anything  you'd  like." 

Lord  Wessemer  took  a  cigarette,  and  rang  the  bell  for  a 
brandy  and  soda.  A  man's  toilette  is  not  a  long  affair,  and 
Bryan  rejoined  him  in  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  Lord 
Wessemer  looked  at  him  thoughtfully  as  he  came  in. 

"  Bryan,"  he  said  quietly,  "  you're  looking  ill!  What  is 
it?    Town  air?  " 

"  I  suppose  so,"  Bryan  answered  listlessly. 

Lord  Wessemer  dropped  his  eyeglass,  and  laid  one  hand 
on  Bryan's  shoulder. 

"  What  is  it?  "  he  asked.  "  Better  tell  me.  I  am  an  old 
man,  and  I  know  a  good  deal  more  of  life  than  you.  I  dare 
say  I  can  help  you." 

Bryan  looked  at  him  for  a  moment.  For  once  the  keen 
cynicism  seemed  to  have  faded  out  of  his  face.  There  was  a 
kindly  gleam  in  the  clear  gray  eyes,  and  almost  a  wan  smile 
upon  his  lips. 

"  Thanks!  I'll  tell  you  as  we  go  in  the  carriage,"  Bryan 
said,  with  a  certain  sense  of  relief.  "  Perhaps  you  can  give 
me  some  advice." 

They  went  out  together,  and  entered  Lord  Wessemer's 
brougham,  which  stood  waiting  at  the  door.  Bryan  did  not 
hesitate,  nor  did  he  spare  himself.  He  told  Lord  Wessemer, 
in  a  few  rapid  words,  the  entire  story  of  his  life  with  Myra 
in  San  Francisco.  He  laid  the  whole  problem  before  him 
without  reserve,  and  with  absolute  faithfulness,  and  Lord 
Wessemer  listened  with  quick  appreciation  and  sympathy. 


LORD   WESSEMER'S   ADVICE  329 

They  were  almost  at  Wessemer  House  before  he  had 
finished,  and  Lord  Wessemer  had  no  time  to  say  much. 

"  It  does  seem  very  hard  to  know  what  to  do,"  he  ad- 
mitted, "  but  there  is  one  idea,  Bryan,  which  you  had  better 
abandon,  and  at  once.    You  must  not  go  to  Lady  Helen!  " 

"  Why  not?  "  Bryan  demanded.  "  She  is  a  woman,  and 
though  she  is  proud,  surely  she  can  stoop  to  help  one  of  her 
own  sex!  " 

"  Helen  is  a  woman,  and  a  good  one,"  Lord  Wessemer 
answered  gravely,  "  but  she  has  not  been  brought  up  in  the 
broadest  of  schools,  and  no  woman  would  exactly  relish 
what  you  are  proposing  to  ask  her.  You  are  upon  very 
dangerous  ground,  Bryan." 

"  I  must  take  my  chance  of  it,"  Bryan  answered.  "  It 
seems  to  me  that  the  woman  whom  I  am  going  to  marry 
should  owe  something  to  the  woman  who  most  surely  saved 
my  life.  I  must  not  shrink  from  offending  Helen's  preju- 
dices when  Myra's  life  depends  upon  it!  " 

The  carriage  stopped  outside  the  broad  double  front  of 
Wessemer  House.  Bryan,  deeply  engrossed  with  his  own 
thoughts,  stepped  out,  and  mounted  the  steps  with  bent 
head.  But  Lord  Wessemer  lingered  behind  for  a  moment. 
He  had  seen  what  Bryan  had  not  —  a  girl  stepping  across 
the  pavement  towards  a  cab  which  was  waiting  just  in  front 
of  their  carriage.  The  face  was  familiar  enough  to  him, 
though  not  in  its  present  aspect.  He  had  seen  it  wreathed 
with  smiles,  and  sparkling  with  a  gay  seductive  vivacity, 
and  now  it  was  very  different  indeed.  He  looked  after  her, 
and  shook  his  head  involuntarily.  He  could  only  guess  at 
her  errand,  but  after  what  he  had  just  been  told,  the  guess 
was  almost  a  divination.  He  followed  Bryan  into  the  house 
with  a  little  sigh. 

It  chanced  that  they  three  were  alone  at  dinner.  The 
evening  had  been  reserved  for  some  distant  relations  of 


330  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

Lady  Helen,  who  were  on  their  way  home  from  India,  and 
had  expected  to  arrive  during  the  afternoon.  But  a  tele- 
gram had  come  —  they  were  detained  in  Paris ;  and  for 
almost  the  first  time  since  they  had  come  to  town,  they  sat 
down  to  dinner  alone.  If  Bryan  was  grateful,  Lord  Wesse- 
mer  seemed  equally  so.  Both  men  were  thoughtful,  and 
Lady  Helen,  who  came  in  late  with  a  bright  spot  of  colour 
in  her  marble  cheeks  and  an  unusual  gleam  in  her  eyes,  only 
spoke  in  monosyllables.  Directly  after  dinner  was  over, 
Lord  Wessemer  lit  a  cigar  and  got  up. 

"  I  hope  you  will  make  up  your  mind,  Bryan,  to  say 
nothing  more  to  Lady  Helen  about  that  matter,"  he  said 
quietly. 

Bryan  shook  his  head. 

"  I  have  pledged  my  word,"  he  answered. 

"  We  might  think  of  some  other  way." 

"  There  is  no  other  safe  way,"  Bryan  declared. 

Lord  Wessemer  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  shall  leave  you  alone,"  he  said.  "  You  will  have  your 
own  way,  I  can  see.  I  am  going  down  to  the  club,  and  on  to 
the  House  for  an  hour." 

Bryan  nodded. 

"  I  shall  go  to  her  at  once,"  he  said. 

Lord  Wessemer  watched  him  leave  the  room,  and  stood 
for  a  moment  at  the  head  of  the  table  in  deep  thought. 
Then  he  rang  and  ordered  his  brougham. 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE   JUDGMENT  OF  THE   EAST 

Lady  Helen  had  received  two  visitors  during  the  after- 
noon, who  had  each  contributed  a  share  to  the  collapse  of 
her  calm  equanimity.  The  first  one  had  arrived  immedi- 
ately after  her  return  from  driving.  She  was  sitting  alone  at 
afternoon  tea,  when  a  servant  announced  the  Duke  of 
Devonport.    She  rose  and  welcomed  him  with  some  surprise. 

"  I  had  no  idea  that  you  were  back/'  she  remarked  as 
she  held  out  her  hand. 

"  Nor  that  I  was  coming?  "  he  asked  quickly. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  Just  as  I  thought/'  he  continued.  "  Lord  Wessemer 
has  not  been  quite  fair  to  me." 

She  looked  at  him  with  wide-open  eyes.  He  was  a  small, 
dark  man,  with  keen  eyes  and  sharp  features.  By  her  side 
he  appeared  insignificant. 

"  Lord  Wessemer  has  not  been  fair  to  you?  "  she  re- 
peated.   "  I  do  not  quite  understand.  " 

"  Exactly!  "  he  answered.  "  It  is,  doubtless,  news  to 
you  that  I  wrote  to  Lord  Wessemer  a  week  ago,  proposing 
myself  for  the  honour  of  your  hand?  " 

She  turned  a  little  paler.  "It  is  news  to  me!"  she 
faltered. 

"  Exactly!  "  he  repeated.    "  Lady  Helen,  I  have  heard 

331 


332  THE   WORLD'S    GREAT   SNARE 

some  rumours  which  I  choose  to  disregard.  As  you  know, 
I  have  been  abroad  for  two  years,  or  I  should  have  made 
you  this  offer  before.  I  want  you  to  be  my  wife!  Now, 
please  don't  make  me  any  answer  whatever  at  present. 
There  may  be  complications  which  a  little  calm  thought 
may  unravel.  I  shall  come  in  a  week  for  my  answer ;  and 
if  at  the  end  of  that  time  you  can  say  '  yes  '  to  me,  you 
will  make  me  very  happy,  and  I  will  promise  you  that  the 
Duchess  of  Devonport  shall  never  regret  it.  Good-bye! 
Don't  say  anything,  please." 

Calm  and  self-assured,  he  bowed  over  her  hand,  and  was 
gone  before  she  could  find  any  words  with  which  to  answer 
him.    Lady  Helen  was  left  alone  in  the  twilight,  to  think! 

Her  second  visitor  came  whilst  she  was  still  deep  in  an 
unusual  fit  of  abstraction.  There  was  a  knock  at  the  door, 
and  her  maid  entered. 

"  There  is  a  young  lady  downstairs,  your  ladyship,  who 
wishes  to  see  you,"  she  announced.  "  She  has  no  card,  and 
will  not  give  her  name.  Parker  has  sent  up  to  know  what 
he  shall  tell  her." 

"  Some  one  for  a  subscription,  I  suppose!  "  Lady  Helen 
remarked.    "  You  had  better  show  her  up,  Celeste." 

Celeste  disappeared.    In  a  few  moments  she  returned. 

"  The  young  lady,  your  ladyship !  "    she  announced. 

The  door  was  closed  again,  and  Celeste  withdrew.  Lady 
Helen  glanced  up,  and  remained  silent  from  sheer  astonish- 
ment. It  was  Myra  who  was  advancing  slowly  towards 
her  —  Myra,  her  dark  eyes  wide  open,  and  fixed  upon  Lady 
Helen  with  a  sort  of  deprecating  sadness,  and  an  unusual 
pallor  on  her  dusky  cheeks. 

The  two  women  stood  face  to  face:  Lady  Helen,  fair, 
proud,  and  impassive,  steadily  regarding  her  visitor  as 
though  even  now  she  was  scarcely  convinced  as  to  her 


THE   JUDGMENT   OF   THE   EAST  333 

identity;  and  Myra,  with  a  gleam  in  her  eyes  which  was 
almost  wistful.    When  she  spoke,  her  voice  shook  a  little. 

"  lam  MyraMercier!  "  she  said.  "  Perhaps  I  ought  not 
to  have  come  to  see  you!  " 

"  Perhaps  not,"  Lady  Helen  answered  calmly.  "  Since 
you  are  here,  may  I  ask  what  you  want?  " 

"  I  wanted  to  see  the  woman  whom  Byran  is  going  to 
marry ;  and  he  told  me  that  he  was  going  to  speak  to  you 
of  me.  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  first.  That  is  why  I 
came!  " 

"  Mr.  Bryan  told  you  that  he  was  going  to  speak  to  me 
of  you?  "  Lady  Helen  repeated  slowly.  "  Surely  you  are 
mistaken!  " 

The  contempt  of  her  words  was  lost  upon  Myra.  She 
was  too  full  of  her  purpose  to  notice  it. 

"  No,  it  is  just  so!  Bryan  is  going  to  speak  to  you  about 
me,  but  he  will  not  tell  you  everything;  and  there  are  some 
things  which  I  should  like  you  to  know.  I  do  not  want  — 
any  one  —  to  be  good  to  me  —  without  knowing  every- 
thing.   That  is  why  I  have  come !    I  want  you  to  know !  " 

Not  a  feature  of  Lady  Helen's  moved.  She  stood  per- 
fectly still,  and  listened  in  icy  silence,  without  a  word  of 
encouragement.  The  pathos  in  the  low,  sweet  voice,  and 
the  dim  softness  of  Myra's  eyes,  were  nothing  to  her.  It 
was,  no  doubt,  a  piece  of  acting.  The  only  womanly  thing 
about  Lady  Helen  at  that  moment  was  the  curiosity  which 
prompted  her  to  stand  and  listen  to  what  this  strange, 
beautiful  girl  had  to  say,  instead  of  ringing  the  bell  and  dis- 
missing her,  as  had  been  her  first  intention. 

"  I  knew  Bryan  in  San  Francisco!  "  Myra  began.  "  I 
was  desperately  poor,  and  I  was  desperately  unhappy.  My 
husband  —  I  was  married  when  I  was  very  young  —  had 
driven  me  away  from  him  because  I  would  not  become  his 
friend's  mistress.    One  night  I  met  Bryan.    I  had  no  money 


334     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

left,  not  even  enough  for  my  night's  lodgings,  and  I  was 
almost  starving.  He  spoke  kindly  to  me,  and  he  helped 
me.  In  time,  not  by  his  persuasion  but  by  my  pleading,  he 
took  me  to  live  with  him  —  for  a  little  time.  Then,  in  a  few 
weeks,  he  left  me.  He  went  to  the  gold-diggings.  He  was 
the  first  man  who  had  ever  been  kind  to  me,  and  I  —  I 
could  not  live  without  him.  I  followed  him  there.  It  took 
me  many  days,  and  it  was  over  a  wild  country;  but  I 
found  him,  and  then  I  knew  what  I  had  always  kind  of 
feared  —  he  did  not  care  for  me !  He  would  rather  have 
been  alone !  He  would  rather  have  spent  the  long  evenings, 
after  his  work  was  over,  sitting  and  dreaming  of  some  one  in 
England;  it  was  of  you,  Lady  Helen!  But  I  had  come  all 
that  way  to  him,  and  he  could  not  refuse  to  take  me  in.  He 
did  it;  but  it  made  him  unhappy  and  morose.  I  knew  that 
he  regretted  bitterly  ever  having  seen  me.  And  once  there 
was  a  man  shot,  and  they  said  it  was  I,  and  Bryan  and  I  had 
to  leave.  There  was  a  man  who  hated  Bryan,  and  he  fol- 
lowed us  out  into  the  desert,  and  dogged  our  steps  day  and 
night.  In  the  darkness  he  stole  our  mules,  and  we  were 
nearly  starved.  One  night  Bryan  had  the  fever,  and  we 
had  nothing  to  eat  or  drink,  and  the  hot  sun  had  made  us 
nearly  mad,  and  this  man  came  stealing  up  through  the 
shadows;  and  he  would  have  killed  Bryan,  but  I  shot  him 
—  I  shot  him  through  the  heart,  and  he  died.    Thank  God !  " 

Myra's  arm,  which  had  been  slightly  raised  dropped  to 
her  side.  Lady  Helen  drew  a  little  breath.  Despite  her 
coldness,  the  woman's  story  had  enthralled  her.  A  slight 
shudder  passed  through  her  limbs,  and  her  fingers  tightened 
upon  the  paper-cutter  which  she  held.  But  her  face  re- 
mained as  the  face  of  a  Sphinx. 

"  We  were  saved  by  a  caravan,  but  Bryan's  fever  grew 
worse.  I  took  him  to  my  rooms  at  San  Francisco,  but  he 
grew  weaker  and  weaker.    The  doctor  told  me  one  day  that 


THE   JUDGMENT   OF   THE   EAST  335 

he  would  die  unless  roused  by  some  strong  emotion.  Then 
it  dawned  upon  me  how  I  might  repay  him  for  what  he  had 
done  for  me.  He  did  not  love  me,  and,  alas!  I  loved  him 
very  much;  and  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  save 
him.  He  had  come  to  America  to  search  for  some  papers 
which  were  to  make  him  rich,  so  that  he  could  go  back  to 
the  woman  of  whom  he  used  to  dream  on  the  banks  of  the 
Blue  River.  The  papers  were  in  the  possession  of  the  man 
who  had  been  my  husband's  friend  and  my  persecutor.  I 
went  to  him,  and  I  made  a  bargain.  It  was  my  soul  for 
Bryan's  life.  He  gave  me  the  papers  and  money,  and  I  gave 
them  to  Bryan.  He  took  them ;  he  was  glad  to  go ;  and  he 
left  me.  But  when  my  time  came,  and  I  went  to  this  man's 
house  to  give  myself  to  him,  for  once  the  fates  were  with  me. 
He  was  dead!  He  had  been  shot  by  an  assassin,  and  I  fled 
back  into  the  shadows  of  the  city,  and  my  heart  nearly 
broke.  I  had  lost  Bryan,  but  I  was  free !  Then  I  told  myself 
that  I  would  die.  There  seemed  no  other  way.  The  love 
I  had  had  for  Bryan  was  in  my  heart  always,  like  sweet,  sad 
music.  It  was  all  over,  but  it  should  never  be  debased.  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  die ;  but  while  the  poison  was  in  my 
hand  there  came  a  letter.  The  man  who  was  dead  had  left 
me  money.  I  came  to  England,  and  I  went  on  the  stage; 
and  one  night,  Bryan  saw  me  at  the  theatre.  He  came  to 
see  me.  He  wished  to  be  kind.  I  had  saved  his  life,  and  I 
am  very,  very  lonely  here.  I  do  not  know  any  women,  and 
I  have  not  one  friend.  And  Bryan  said  that  the  woman  he 
was  going  to  marry  would  be  kind  to  me  for  his  sake,  but  I 
knew  that  he  would  not  tell  you  everything,  and  because  we 
both  love  him,  I  came  to  you!  " 

Her  voice,  which  had  become  a  little  tremulous,  but 
wonderfully  soft  and  sweet,  died  away,  and  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears.  She  held  out  her  hands  to  Lady  Helen,  and 
took  a  swift  step  forwards.    But  Lady  Helen  did  not  move. 


336  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

"  Did  Mr.  Bryan  know  that  you  were  coming  to  me?  " 
she  asked. 

Myra's  hands  fell  to  her  sides.  Her  heart  suddenly 
stopped  its  wild  beating.  She  looked  out  upon  Lady  Helen 
through  a  mist  of  unshed  tears. 

"Did  Bryan  know  that  I  was  coming  to  you!"  she 
repeated  falteringly.    "  Why,  no!  " 

"  I  imagined  not,"  Lady  Helen  said  calmly.  "  I  will  do 
him  the  justice  to  suppose  that  he  would  have  prevented  it. 
If  you  are  sure  that  you  have  nothing  else  to  say,  I  should 
be  glad  if  you  would  go  away.  Your  story  has  not  been 
exactly  a  pleasant  one  for  me  to  listen  to!  " 

"A  —  a  pleasant  one!  I  do  not  understand!  Oh,  my 
God!" 

Myra's  hands  were  clasped  to  her  temples  for  a  moment. 
She  could  not  realize  it  all  at  once.  There  was  a  dull  sing- 
ing in  her  ears,  and  the  room  seemed  spinning  around  her. 
Only  that  fair  marble  face  with  its  two  spots  of  angry 
colour,  and  its  cruel,  scornfully  curled  lips,  seemed  steadfast 
before  her  eyes.  She  had  rent  her  heart  and  opened  those 
old  wounds  —  in  vain !  She  had  done  this  —  only  to  be 
scorned,  and  by  the  woman  whom  Bryan  loved !  It  was  hor- 
rible! Was  she  no  longer  human,  then,  because  she  had 
sinned?  Was  she  indeed  for  ever  beyond  the  pale  of  all  kin- 
dred with  her  sex?  The  sense  of  her  degradation  seemed 
burned  into  her  heart,  and  she  shivered.  This  woman's  voice 
was  the  decree  of  nature ;  it  was  the  pronouncement  of  her 
doom.  She  was  right.  She  was  an  unclean  thing !  She  ought 
not  to  have  come  here  at  all.  Her  place  for  ever  must  be 
amongst  the  pariahs  of  the  world.  She  was  mad  to  have 
struggled  against  her  fate.  The  intolerable  agony  of  that 
moment  left  its  mark  upon  her  life  for  ever.  Yet  some  faint 
attempt  at  justification  found  its  way  up  from  her  heart. 

"  You  think  that  I  ought  not  to  have  come,  that  I  am 


THE   JUDGMENT   OF   THE   EAST  337 

not  fit  to  come  to  you !  "  she  faltered.  "  Yet,  I  loved  him 
dearly.  I  only  gave  myself  to  him  because  I  loved  him.  It 
did  not  seem  wrong.  Perhaps  you  think  me  worse  —  than  I 
am !  There  was  never  —  anybody  else !  I  have  faced  death 
since  —  that  there  should  be  no  one  else!  " 

"  I  should  be  glad  if  you  would  go  away!  "  Lady  Helen 
said. 

For  one  moment  Myra  rebelled,  stung  with  a  keen  pang 
of  hopeless  indignation  against  the  fate  which  seemed  dealt 
out  to  her  by  this  woman's  verdict. 

"  Oh,  you  are  cruel!  "  she  cried  bitterly.  "  The  world  is 
cruel !  Is  there  no  mercy  anywhere,  then?  Does  a  woman's 
sin  live  for  ever?    Is  this  how  you  Eastern  women  judge?  " 

"  I  do  not  judge  any  one,"  Lady  Helen  answered.  "  By 
your  own  showing  you  have  given  yourself  of  your  own 
accord  to  a  man  who  would  have  avoided  the  gift  if  he  could. 
That  fact  places  you  in  a  certain  position,  and  amongst  a 
certain  class.  I  have  rung  the  bell.  Will  you  be  so  good  as 
to  go  away  now." 

"  I  will  go,"  Myra  answered  calmly,  choking  down  a 
little  sob  which  trembled  in  her  throat.  "  I  am  sorry  that  I 
ever  came.    It  was  a  great  mistake." 

Lady  Helen  waited  until  her  visitor  was  gone,  and  then 
she  went  up  to  her  room  and  locked  the  door.  No  one  saw 
her  again  until  the  dinner-bell  had  sounded. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

THE   SAVIOUR  OF  A  SOUL 

The  Earl  of  Wessemer  drove  straight  to  his  club,  and 
entering  the  smoking-room,  took  up  a  paper.  But  he  found 
it  a  little  difficult  to  concentrate  his  thoughts.  He  listened 
to  the  odd  scraps  of  conversation  which  were  being  bandied 
around  him,  and  presently  he  began  to  talk  himself  to  his 
neighbour,  Sir  George  Conyers. 

They  had  chatted  idly  for  a  few  moments  about  a  recent 
meet  of  the  Four-in-Hand  Club,  when  a  servant  in  the  club 
livery  entered,  and  brought  a  note  to  Sir  George.  He 
opened  it  with  indifference,  but  he  had  scarcely  glanced  it 
through  before  his  whole  expression  changed.  Lord 
Wessemer,  who  chanced  to  glance  towards  him,  was  sur- 
prised and  a  little  repelled  by  the  slow,  triumphant  smile 
which  had  broken  over  his  face,  and  the  bright  gleam  in  his 
eyes.  He  scribbled  an  answer  in  pencil,  and  then  leaned 
back  in  his  chair  with  the  letter  still  in  his  hand. 

"  The  ways  of  womankind  are  wonderful  indeed!  "  he 
said,  with  a  little  sneering  laugh.  "  I  was  never  more  sur- 
prised in  my  life!  " 

Lord  Wessemer  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Anything  sensational?  "    he  asked. 

"  Oh,  no!  Just  a  little  odd,  that's  all!  There's  a  girl, 
an  actress,  I  won't  mention  her  name,  whom  I  consider  the 

338 


THE   SAVIOUR   OF  A   SOUL  339 

most  beautiful  woman  in  London.  Well,  I've  done  my  best 
to  make  her  acquaintance.  All  no  good.  She  was  a  pro- 
tegee, by-the-bye,  of  your  young  friend,  and  he  seemed  to  be 
the  only  favoured  one.  That  girl,  between  ourselves,  has 
snubbed  me  horribly,  and  yet  to-night  —  look  here!  " 

He  tore  off  the  signature  to  the  note,  and  passed  it  over. 
Lord  Wessemer  read  it. 

"  Hilarity  Theatre. 

"  Dear  Sir  George, 

"  You  have  often  asked  me  to  go  to  supper  with  you. 
If  you  have  no  engagement,  I  will  meet  you  after  the  play 
to-night." 

Lord  Wessemer  returned  it  without  any  sign  of  interest. 

"  What  did  you  say?  "    he  asked. 

"  Not  much!  '  Ladies'  room  at  the  "  Monopole,"  at  a 
quarter  to  twelve.'  That'll  give  her  time  to  get  back  to  her 
rooms  and  dress  first.  I  shall  send  my  carriage  for  her.  An 
odd  thing,  by  Jove!  " 

He  strolled  off,  and  left  Lord  Wessemer  sitting  looking 
into  the  fire.  In  an  ordinary  case  he  was  man  of  the  world 
enough  to  have  dismissed  such  an  episode  without  a  second 
thought.  But  this  was  not  an  ordinary  case.  He  sat 
looking  into  the  fire  so  long  and  so  steadfastly,  that  one  or 
two  of  the  men  around  noticed  it. 

"  Getting  an  old  man!  "    one  remarked. 

His  friend  shook  his  head. 

"  Lord  Wessemer  will  never  be  an  old  man/'  he  said. 
"  He  is  a  combination  of  the  eighteenth  century  beau  and 
the  modern  cynic,  and  I  dare  wager  that  he  never  troubles 
himself  to  think  of  anything  more  momentous  than  a  new 
sauce  or  an  old  wine.     He  will  always  be  graceful  and 


340  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

debonair,  for  he  never  thinks.  He  is  the  very  type  of  refined 
old  age." 

Lord  Wessemer  passed  out  while  they  were  talking,  and 
stood  for  a  moment  in  the  hall.  He  looked  at  his  watch. 
It  was  ten  o'clock.    He  stepped  into  his  carriage. 

"  Hilarity  Theatre!  "  he  said. 

The  brougham,  with  its  wonderful  dark  bays,  set  him 
down  at  the  doors  of  the  theatre  in  less  than  five  minutes. 
He  paid  for  a  stall  and  sat  in  the  back  row. 

The  last  act  was  just  commencing.  He  ignored  the  per- 
formance and  watched  Myra  carefully.  There  was  a  bright 
glow  in  her  cheeks  which  needed  no  rouge,  and  her  move- 
ments seemed  full  of  a  wonderful  and  sinuous  voluptuous- 
ness new  to  her.  She  had  never  sung  so  well,  or  acted  with 
such  verve  and  daring.  The  applause  was  tremendous. 
But  Lord  Wessemer  watched  her  without  applauding;  he 
even  sighed. 

Directly  the  performance  was  over  he  walked  round  to 
the  stage-door,  and  slipped  a  sovereign  into  the  door- 
keeper's hand. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  Miss  Mercier  for  a  moment,"  he  said. 

"  She  has  just  left,  sir,"  the  man  answered.  "  She  was 
in  a  great  hurry  this  evening." 

"  Can  you  give  me  her  address?  " 

The  man  gave  it  him  after  a  moment's  hesitation.  Lord 
Wessemer  returned  to  his  carriage. 

"  Weymouth  Street,  No.  39,"  he  said. 

In  ten  minutes  the  small  brougham  drew  up  outside 
Myra's  rooms.  Lord  Wessemer  saw  with  relief  that  Sir 
George  Conyer's  carriage  was  waiting  at  the  door. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  Miss  Mercier,"  he  said  to  the  servant 
who  answered  his  ring.  "  I  shall  not  detain  her  long. 
Kindly  show  me  up  to  her  room." 

Lord  Wessemer  was  a  man  whom  no  one  ever  dreamed 


THE   SAVIOUR   OF   A   SOUL  341 

of  disobeying.  The  girl  showed  him  up  into  Myra's  sitting- 
room.    It  was  empty. 

"  Miss  Mercier  is  changing  her  dress,"  she  said.  "  She 
will  he  here  directly." 

Lord  Wessemer  nodded,  and  he  was  left  alone.  He 
stood  still  on  the  hearthrug,  and  waited. 

His  quick  eyes  wandered  round  the  room.  He  noticed 
everything,  even  the  little  pile  of  books,  at  the  titles  of 
which  he  glanced  with  a  faint  smile.  There  was  not  a 
single  novel.  There  were  all  the  modern  aids  to  education, 
in  one  form  or  the  other  —  GlendorofFs  method  of  learning 
French,  and  several  volumes  of  critical  essays  on  art  and 
literature.  There  were  some  cushions  on  the  sofa,  huddled 
together  and  crushed,  and  a  handkerchief  lying  down  on  the 
floor.  Lord  Wessemer  sighed.  He  knew  that  a  very  short 
time  ago  this  room  must  have  witnessed  a  woman's  agony. 

She  came  in  at  last,  dressed  for  the  evening,  in  a  black 
lace  gown  with  mauve  foundation  and  ribbons,  quietly 
enough  compared  with  the  toilettes  of  dozens  of  women,  but 
yet  in  a  different  style  to  anything  she  had  yet  attempted. 
The  colour  on  her  cheeks,  too,  was  a  little  higher  than  usual, 
and  her  eyes  were  unnaturally  bright.  In  her  carriage  there 
was  a  wonderful  admixture  of  the  old  grace  and  a  new-born 
voluptuousness.  She  carried  herself  with  a  different  air, 
less  feminine  and  more  defiant.  Lord  Wessemer  looked  at 
her  long  and  earnestly.  To  him  she  represented  the  type 
of  a  woman  deliberately  giving  herself  over  to  destruction. 
He  was  philosopher  enough  to  study  her  for  a  moment 
curiously. 

She  stopped  short  when  she  saw  that  it  was  a  stranger 
who  confronted  her.  Lord  Wessemer  dropped  his  eyeglass, 
and  bowed. 

"  I  have  to  introduce  myself,"  he  said,  in  that  low, 
winning  tone  which  he  knew  so  well  how  to  use,  "  and  to 


342  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

apologize  for  my  intrusion!  I  am  the  Earl  of  Wessemer, 
and  you  are  Miss  Myra  Mercier,  I  believe?  Will  you  allow 
me?" 

He  bent  over  her  hand  with  old-fashioned  courtly 
grace. 

"  You  must  not  be  shocked  at  my  presumption  in  coming 
here!  "  he  continued  pleasantly.  "  Remember  that  I  am 
old  enough  to  be  your  father!  " 

She  understood  him,  and  was  ashamed  of  the  suspicion 
which  had  caused  her  for  a  moment  to  retain  her  hand. 

"  I  do  not  quite  understand,"  she  said.  "  Have  you 
anything  particular  to  say  to  me?  " 

"  You  think  that  I  have  come  at  a  most  unreasonable 
time  to  say  it,  don't  you?  Will  you  allow  me  to  explain? 
I  won't  keep  you  more  than  five  minutes." 

His  manner  was  perfect,  as  it  always  was,  polished  and 
deferential,  but  exceedingly  kindly.  In  his  presence  Myra 
unwittingly  became  her  old  self  again.  The  false  hardness 
of  a  few  minutes  ago  vanished.  She  smiled  at  him  brightly, 
and  drew  off  her  gloves.    It  was  a  respite. 

"  Why,  of  course  I  will!  "  she  answered.  "  Won't  you 
sit  down?  " 

She  loosened  the  strings  of  her  heavy  opera  cloak,  and  it 
fell  back  from  her  bare  shoulders.  He  took  an  easy-chair, 
and  she  sat  opposite  to  him. 

"  I  know  you,  and  of  you,"  he  said,  "  from  Bryan.  He 
has  told  me  a  great  deal!  " 

The  colour  in  her  cheeks  became  very  real  for  one  brief 
moment.  Then  it  faded  out,  leaving  her  quite  pale,  save 
for  that  one  pink  spot.  Lord  Wessemer  leaned  over  towards 
her,  and  continued: 

"  Bryan  has  told  me  how  nobly  you  saved  his  life  in  San 
Francisco,"  he  went  on,  "  and  also  that  it  was  you  who 
procured  and  brought  him  those  wonderful  papers.    I  want 


THE   SAVIOUR   OF   A   SOUL  343 

to  tell  you  something  about  them,  if  I  may  —  if  you  will 
listen  for  a  few  more  minutes  to  an  old  man!  " 

"  Why,  yes,  of  course  I  will,"  she  said  timidly. 

"  Those  papers  were  the  key  to  Bryan's  history.  They 
were  stolen  long  ago,  and  they  told  him  —  all  he  was  so 
anxious  to  know.  It  was  a  very  sad  history.  His  father 
committed  a  great  sin  —  a  sin  which  he  has  never  ceased  to 
repent.  He  deceived  a  trusting  woman,  and  Bryan  was 
their  son.    He  was  a  villain,  and,  alas !    I  am  he !  " 

She  sat  up  and  looked  at  him  in  blank  surprise. 

"You!"    she  exclaimed.    "  You  Bryan's  father?  " 

"  Even  so,"  Lord  Wessemer  answered,  with  bowed  head. 
"  I  have  paid  very  bitterly  for  the  evil  I  did.  Do  you 
remember  this  last  paper  you  brought  him?  It  was  the 
most  wonderful  of  all,  but  it  tells  how  in  deceiving  his 
mother,  I  was  myself  deceived  by  a  false  friend.  The 
marriage  which  I  intended  to  be  a  sham  one,  was  a  real  and 
binding  ceremony.  My  sin  is  none  the  less,  but  the  fact 
remains.    Bryan  is  really  my  son!  " 

"  Your  own  son !  "    she  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  gently.  "I  am  an  old  man  now, 
you  see,  and  though  I  have  never  thought  of  marrying  since 
those  days,  I  have  often  felt  very  lonely  indeed,  and  I  have 
longed  for  a  son  to  bear  my  name  after  me,  and  to  become 
the  head  of  my  family.  But  Bryan  will  not  take  my  name. 
It  is  his  punishment,  and  I  do  not  blame  him!  We  are 
friends!  I  see  him  every  day!  But  he  will  not  call  me 
'  father  ' !    It  is  my  deep  sorrow,  and  it  is  always  with  me!" 

He  bent  his  head,  and  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Her 
dark  eyes  were  full  of  sympathy. 

"  So  you  see  that  I,  too,  have  very  much  to  thank  you 
for,"  he  continued.  "  It  is  you  who  saved  my  son's  life; 
and  I  want  to  know  whether  we  cannot,  Bryan,  and  I,  and 
all  of  us,  show  our  gratitude  in  some  way.  We  cannot  repay 


344  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

you,  that  is  impossible!  But  it  would  make  an  old  man 
very  glad  if  you  would  accept  our  respectful  friendship " 

"Stop!" 

She  had  risen  to  her  feet,  and  she  was  looking  at  him  with 
a  curious  quivering  at  the  lips. 

"  Bryan  —  Bryan  came  here,  and  he  spoke  of  —  finding 
a  friend  for  me.  He  would  go,  he  said,  to  the  woman  whom 
he  was  going  to  marry.  She  would  be  kind  to  mc,  he  said, 
for  his  sake.  But  I  —  I  was  afraid  that  he  would  not  tell 
her  all.    I  went  to  her  myself,  this  afternoon !  " 

Her  voice  suddenly  broke  down,  and  died  away  in  a  little 
moan,  but  she  dashed  the  tears  from  her  eyes  and  continued. 
Her  face  had  grown  very  set  and  hard. 

"  She  showed  me  —  that  I  was  a  very  wicked  girl.  I  did 
not  quite  understand  before,  but  —  she  made  it  very  plain. 
Perhaps  you  do  not  know  about  me,  or  you  would  not  be 
here.  I  was  Bryan's  mistress!  Do  you  understand?  I 
lived  with  him.  I  went  to  him  of  my  own  accord.  I  was 
alone,  and  I  loved  him ;  so  I  went.  Perhaps  you  are  sorry 
now  that  you  came!  " 

Lord  Wessemer  took  her  hand,  and  held  it  tenderly  in  his. 

"  My  dear  girl,"  he  said  quietly,  "  I  know  everything, 
and  if  you  will  give  me  that  honour,  I  shall  be  proud  to  call 
you  my  friend.  You  must  not  let  anything  that  Lady  Helen 
said  trouble  you.  She  has  seen  nothing  of  the  world,  and 
although  she  is  my  ward,  I  am  afraid  that  she  is  a  little 
narrow  and  prejudiced.  She  has  no  strong  passions  herself, 
good  or  evil,  nor  any  of  those  great,  sweet  impulses  which 
have  made  you  a  woman  whom  I  am  proud  to  know.  You 
must  not  think  that  Lady  Helen's  opinions  are  the  world's 
opinions.  The  woman  who  gives  herself  away  for  her  own 
advantage  is  a  shameful  woman,  here  and  everywhere.  But 
the  woman  who  loves  one  man  so  tenderly  and  so  unselfishly 
that  she  gives  herself  to  him  as  you  gave  yourself  to  Bryan, 


THE   SAVIOUR   OF   A   SOUL  345 

the  world  of  thoughtful  men  and  women  has  no  single 
thought  or  word  against." 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  sobbed  aloud. 

"  It  is  too  late !  "  she  moaned.    "  It  is  too  late!  " 

"It  is  not  too  late,  Myra!    See!" 

He  pointed  to  the  clock.  It  struck  twelve!  Their  eyes 
met,  and  she  was  white  to  the  lips. 

"You  knew!"    she  cried.    "My  God!    you  knew!" 

He  bowed  his  head. 

"  I  knew!"    he  answered.    "  My  poor,  dear  child !  " 

She  sank  on  her  knees  before  him,  weeping  passionately. 

"  Thank  God  you  came!"  she  sobbed.  "  I  —  I  loathed 
myself  so,  and  yet  Lady  Helen's  words  seemed  always  ring- 
ing in  my  ears,  and  Bryan  was  going  to  marry  her,  and  I 
was  very,  very  lonely !  If  I  had  gone,  I  should  have  killed 
myself  afterwards;  but  I  should  have  gone  —  if  it  had  not 
been  for  you!  " 

He  led  her  to  a  chair,  and  talked  to  her  soothingly. 

"  We  must  see  that  you  are  never  lonely  any  more,"  he 
said.    "I " 

He  stopped  abruptly,  and  looked  round.  The  door  had 
opened;    Bryan  was  standing  on  the  threshold. 

Lord  Wessemer  took  up  his  hat,  and  stooping  low, 
kissed  Myra's  hand.  A  single  look  into  Bryan's  wild  face 
seemed  to  tell  him  what  had  happened. 

"Good-bye,  Myra!"  he  said  gently.  "Here  is  some 
one  else  come  to  talk  to  you!  " 

He  crossed  the  room,  and  heard  her  little  cry  as  she  rec- 
ognized Bryan  standing  gazing  at  them  in  blank  amaze- 
ment. Lord  Wessemer  dropped  his  voice  as  he  passed  him, 
and  looked  straight  into  his  eyes. 

"  Remember,  Bryan,"  he  said,  "  that  you  are  a  Wesse- 
mer! " 

He   walked   down   the   stairs,   and   stepped   into    his 


346  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

brougham.  Sir  George  Conyers's  carriage  was  still  waiting, 
and  he  put  his  head  out  of  the  window,  and  beckoned  to  the 
footman. 

"  I  don't  think  you  need  wait  any  longer/'  he  said. 
"  There  has  been  a  little  mistake." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  the  man  answered  dubiously.  "  Is 
there  any  message  for  Sir  George?  " 

"  Yes.  You  can  give  him  my  compliments  —  the  Earl  of 
Wessemer's  compliments,  you  understand  —  and  say  that 
the  note  he  received  this  evening  was  a  clumsy  forgery.  You 
understand!  " 

"  Yes,  my  lord." 

The  Earl  of  Wessemer  leaned  back  in  his  carriage,  and  lit 
a  cigarette. 

"  It's  a  d d  odd  thing,"  he  mused,  as  he  blew  away 

the  smoke,  "  but  if  ever  I  do,  or  attempt  to  do  a  good  action, 
I  am  certain  to  be  found  out.  Yet  I  am  glad  I  went.  I  am 
very  glad! " 


CHAPTER  IX 

A  BROKEN  DREAM 

For  several  moments  neither  of  them  spoke.  Bryan 
took  off  his  overcoat,  and  threw  it  on  the  table.  Then  he 
stood  still,  listening  to  the  sound  of  Lord  Wessemer's  horses, 
as  they  sprang  forward  in  the  street  below,  and  the  carriage 
rolled  away. 

"Bryan!" 

The  sound  of  her  voice  seemed  to  awake  him  from  a  sort 
of  lethargy.  He  took  a  quick  step  towards  her.  Her  eyes 
were  red  and  swollen,  and  her  hair  was  disordered.  Yet, 
with  it  all,  she  was  superbly  beautiful.  In  her  voice  at  that 
moment  he  seemed  to  recall  something  of  the  wistfulness  of 
those  far-away  days  on  the  banks  of  the  Blue  River,  and 
out  in  the  wild  sandy  desert. 

She  held  out  her  hands  as  though  to  keep  him  away. 

"  No;  you  must  not  come  near  me !  "  she  said,  in  a  low, 
tremulous  tone.    "  You  must  keep  away  from  me  for  ever!  " 

He  did  not  go.  On  the  contrary,  he  came  up  quite  close 
to  her.  Then  she  saw  that  he,  too,  had  been  passing  through 
some  phase  of  passionate  emotion.  His  strong  face  was 
troubled,  and  yet  eager,  and  his  cheeks  were  unusually  pale. 

"  You  have  been  to  Lady  Helen!  "  she  said.  "  She  has 
told  you!" 

"  She  has  told  me  everything,"  he  answered.  "  I  have 
come  straight  from  her  to  you,  Myra.    Now,  listen!  " 

347 


348  THE   WORLD'S   GREAT   SNARE 

He  stood  up  before  her  with  folded  arms,  something  of 
the  old  blunt  stubbornness  creeping  into  his  face,  and  be- 
traying itself  in  his  speech.  She  listened  to  every  syllable. 
It  was  the  Bryan  of  those  other  passionate  days  who 
spoke  to  her  —  her  Bryan. 

"  I  told  you  in  San  Francisco  that  there  was  a  woman  in 
England  whom  I  loved.    You  remember  that?  " 

She  looked  at  him  in  mute  assent.  He  did  not  wait  for 
any  other  answer. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  about  that.  I  was  a  vagabond,  and 
she  was  a  fair,  proud  lady,  who  only  stooped  to  speak  to  me 
because  I  had  saved  her  life.  To  me,  in  those  days,  she 
seemed  like  an  angel.  In  my  own  imagination  I  made  her 
an  angel.  I  built  up  her  image  in  my  heart,  and  the  ma- 
terials were  of  my  own  making.  The  Lady  Helen  whom 
I  fashioned  was  my  princess,  the  dream  of  my  days,  the 
desire  of  my  life !  Nothing  seemed  to  me  to  compare  with 
the  faint,  sweet  hope  which,  in  my  insane  moments,  I  fondly 
cherished  —  the  hope  of  winning  her.  It  was  thus  with  me 
when  I  came  abroad.    You  understand?  " 

She  flashed  a  look  at  him  from  her  wet  eyes. 

"  I  understand,"  she  whispered. 

Bryan  took  a  deep  breath  and  continued.  It  was  a  joy 
to  him  to  be  speaking  thus.  He  felt  somehow  as  though  he 
had  fought  his  way  out  of  the  meshes  of  some  silken  net. 
The  sound  of  his  own  voice  was  like  a  strong  tonic  to  him. 

"  I  met  you.  In  a  way  you  gained  a  curious  influence 
over  me,  but  I  set  my  face  resolutely  against  it.  I  denied 
it.  I  told  myself  that  there  was  only  one  woman  in  the 
world  for  me,  and  you  were  n't  she.  So  I  left  you,  ungrate- 
fully and  brutally,  and  I  came  back  to  England  to  find 
myself  a  rich  man.  My  wealth  and  Lord  Wessemer's 
influence  helped  me  on.  I  felt  myself  at  last  climbing  up 
on  to  the  same  level  as  the  woman  of  my  dreams.    The  day 


«  «  Are  you  —  quite  sure,  Bryan  ? '  she  whispered.' 


The  World's  Great  Snare] 


[PagejiQ 


A   BROKEN   DREAM  349 

came  when  I  attained  what  had  seemed  to  me  to  be  the 
desire  of  my  life.    Lady  Helen  consented  to  marry  me." 

"Ah!" 

She  looked  away,  but  he  took  both  her  hands  and  held 
them  tightly. 

"  From  that  moment,  Myra,  I  have  been  a  most  miserable 
man.  I  have  not  allowed  myself  to  believe  it  before,  but  I 
know  it  now.  The  Lady  Helen  whom  I  had  won  was  a 
very  beautiful,  and  in  her  way,  I  believe,  a  very  good 
woman,  but  she  was  as  far  apart  from  the  Lady  Helen  of  my 
fashioning  as  Heaven  is  from  Hell.  Day  by  day  I  found  it 
out.  She  has  lived,  and  desires  still  to  live,  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  her  own  —  an  air  I  cannot  breathe.  It  has  made 
her  conventional,  proud,  and  narrow,  conscientious  but  full 
of  prejudices,  without  passions  or  without  sympathy.  For  a 
puppet  of  noble  birth  she  will  make  an  excellent  wife;  but 
she  will  never  be  mine.  We  have  parted,  and  she  is  going 
to  marry  His  Grace  the  Duke  of  Devonport." 

A  great  wave  of  emotion  swept  into  Myra's  face.  She 
took  a  quick  step  backwards,  and  looked  at  him  as  though 
scarcely  yet  comprehending. 

"  To-night  came  my  release,"  he  said.  "  I  spoke  to  her 
of  you.  She  interrupted  me.  You  had  been  to  her,  and 
she  told  me  the  manner  of  your  reception.  She  added  that 
she  feared  that  our  engagement  was  a  mistake.  Our  views 
of  life  and  our  tastes  were  altogether  too  far  apart.  And 
I  bowed  my  head,  and  my  heart  said  '  aye ! '  I  knew  then 
that  my  idol  was  a  creature  of  my  own  making.  She  had 
never  existed.  My  heart  was  free  from  her,  and,  Myra  —  I 
found  that  it  was  not  free  after  all,  for  I  had  given  it  to  you." 

He  took  her  into  his  arms,  and  with  a  low,  deep  cry,  she 
gave  herself  up  to  his  embrace.  The  joy  of  that  moment 
was  worth  the  sorrows  of  a  lifetime  to  her. 

"  Are  you  —  quite  sure,  Bryan?  "    she  whispered. 


350     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

"  Quite  sure/'  he  answered  confidently.  "  I  am  going  to 
take  you  away  into  a  new  and  a  greater  world ;  and  we  are 
going  to  be  very  happy  indeed." 

They  sat  talking  softly  together  till  the  streets  below 
were  silent,  and  the  fire  burnt  out  into  white  ashes.  Then 
Bryan  tore  himself  away,  and  walked  homeward  through 
the  empty  streets,  in  the  twilight  before  the  dawn.  From 
his  couch  he  watched  the  sun  rise  slowly  over  the  great 
slumbering  city,  and  then,  with  a  deep  sigh  of  content,  he 
closed  his  eyes  and  slept. 

Myra,  too,  watched  it  from  her  lonely  chamber  window, 
and  the  faint  silver  rays  stealing  down  upon  the  dark,  sad 
city,  were  like  a  sweet  omen  of  the  days  to  come.  And 
indeed  their  presage  was  a  faithful  one.  For  the  sun  which 
had  risen  in  her  heart  shone  there  for  ever,  without  any 
cloud  or  any  twilight. 


CHAPTER  X 

IN  THE  GREATER  WORLD 

"  At  last,  Bryan !  I  can  see  the  buggy  and  the  waggon. 
Look!" 

She  passed  the  glasses  to  her  husband,  and  he  held  them 
to  his  eyes  long  and  steadily.    Then  he  put  them  down. 

"  Yes,  he  is  there,"  he  said. 

They  stood  hand  in  hand  waiting,  and  the  soft  west 
wind  came  from  over  the  hills  and  fanned  their  faces.  They 
were  upon  the  piazza  of  a  dainty  little  chalet  built  out  upon 
a  ledge  of  the  mountains,  and  almost  overhanging  the  great 
Redstone  Park  valley.  Above  them  towered  the  snow- 
capped mountains,  and  all  around,  the  lower  hills  lifted  their 
pine-topped  heads  to  the  blue  sky.  At  their  feet  was  a 
wonderful  panorama  of  valley  and  broad  virgin  country 
stretching  away  in  a  great  plain  to  the  misty  horizon.  Bryan 
was  wearing  a  suit  of  white  flannels,  and  he  took  off  his 
cap  to  let  the  breeze  sweep  through  his  hair. 

"  This  is  the  loveliest  spot  in  the  world!  "    he  exclaimed. 

Myra  laughed. 

"  And  you  have  never  found  it  dull?  You,  a  man  of 
fashion! " 

"  Never!  "  he  answered  gladly.  "  We  have  been  very 
happy  here,  dear!  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  soft  gleam  in  her  eyes,  and 
a  wonderful  smile  on  her  lips. 

351 


352     THE  WORLD'S  GREAT  SNARE 

"  It  is  like  Paradise,  Bryan!  "  she  said.  "  But  I  think 
that  we  should  have  been  happy  anywhere!  " 

Nearer  and  nearer  drew  the  little  chain  of  vehicles, 
making  their  laborious  way  up  the  mountain.  Through  the 
glasses  they  could  now  see  distinctly  the  figure  of  their 
approaching  guest. 

"  Bryan,  I  have  something  to  ask  you!  "  his  wife  said 
slowly.  "  It  is  a  great  thing.  I  want  to  ask  it  you  before 
Lord  Wessemer  gets  here!  " 

"  You'll  have  to  be  quick,  then!  "  he  answered,  smiling. 
"  They're  at  the  bend  now  coming  round  the  head  of  the 
gorge.    How  well  he  looks!  " 

"  It  is  about  that  thing  which  he  desires  so  much  —  that 
you  will  bear  his  name,  and  call  yourself  his  son." 

He  shut  the  glasses  up  with  a  snap. 

"  I  cannot  do  that,  Myra!  "  he  said  quietly.  "  I  can 
forgive  him,  and  I  can  even  love  him.    But " 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  One  moment,  Bryan!  "  she  pleaded.  "  I  am  going  to 
raise  the  curtain,  just  a  corner  of  it,  behind  which  all  is 
blank  for  us.  You  remember  —  that  night.  You  never 
quite  understood  why  Lord  Wessemer  was  with  me,  did 
you?  " 

"  No,  I  never  did!  "    he  answered. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you!  He  came  to  me  because,  from  a 
man's  careless  talk  at  his  club,  he  knew  that  in  my  despair  I 
was  giving  myself  over,  body  and  soul,  to  death.  I  was 
mad  that  night,  Bryan,  and  I  had  promised  —  to  have 
supper  with  Sir  George  Conyers.  Lord  Wessemer  came 
to  me,  and  in  a  few  gentle  words  he  made  me  feel  quite  a 
different  woman.  He  came  of  his  own  accord,  and  he  saved 
me!  That  is  why  I  am  angry  when  I  hear  any  one  call 
him  cynical,  or  blase,  or  selfish!  That  is  why  I  shall  always 
love  him  next  to  you,  Bryan !  " 


IN   THE   GREATER    WORLD  353 

He  stooped  and  kissed  her,  heedless  of  the  ascending 
cavalcade. 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  have  told  me  this,  Myra,"  he  said. 
"  It  shall  be  as  he  wishes !    Come!" 

They  met  on  the  lawn  amongst  the  flowering  azaleas,  and 
under  the  shadow  of  the  pine-trees,  through  which  were 
little  flower-framed  peeps  of  the  valley  below. 

"lama  reformed  cynic,"  Lord  Wessemer  laughed,  as  he 
held  out  his  hands  to  them.  "  I  shall  sneer  at  Arcadia  no 
more!    It  is  here!  " 

Later,  as  they  sat  on  the  piazza,  and  watched  the  fireflies 
dart  through  the  sweet-scented  twilight,  he  spoke  wistfully 
of  that  great  desire  which  had  brought  him  from  England,  a 
suppliant.  And  Bryan  held  out  his  hand  through  the 
gathering  gloom. 

"It  shall  be  as  you  wish,  father!"  he  said  quietly. 
"  Myra  wishes  it!  " 

Lord  Wessemer  bent  forward,  and  through  the  darkness 
their  eyes  suddenly  met  —  Myra's  and  his.  They  under- 
stood. 


THE    END. 


E.  PHILLIPS  OPPENHEIM'S  NOVELS 

Illustrated.     Cloth.     $1.50  Each 

He  stands  at  the  head  of  the  entertaining  writers. 

—  Pittsburg  Gazette-Times 
Mr.  Oppenheim  is  a  past  master  of  the  art  of  constructing  ingenious 
plots  and  weaving  them  around  attractive  characters. 

—  London  Morning  Post 

The  Governors 

A  romance  of  the  intrigues  of  American  finance. 

The  ever  welcome  Oppenheim.  —  Boston  Transcript 

The  Missioner 

Strongly  depicts  the  love  of  an  earnest  missioner  and  a  worldly 
heroine  with  a  past. 
An  entrancingly  interesting  romance.  —  Pittsburg  Post 

The  Long  Arm  of  Mannister 

A  distinctly  different  story  that  deals  with  a  wronged  man's 
ingenious  plan  of  revenge. 
Mannister  is  a  powerfully  drawn  character.    —  Philadelphia  Press 

As  a  Man  LiveS,  or  the  Mystery  of  the  Yellow  House 

The  story  of  an  English  curate  and  his  connection  with  the 
fair  occupant  of  a  near-by  yellow  house. 
Every  page  in  it  suggests  a  mystery.  —  Literary  World,  London 

The  Avenger 

Unravels  an  intricate  tangle  of  political  intrigue  and  private 
revenge  with  consummate  power  of  fascination. 
A  lively,  thrilling,  captivating  story.  —  New  York  Times 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  COMPANY,  Publishers,  BOSTON 


E.  PHILLIPS  OPPENHEIM'S  NOVELS 

Illustrated.     Cloth.     $1.50  Each 


A  Prince  of  Sinners 


An  engrossing  story  of  English  social  political  life,  with 
powerfully  drawn  characters. 

Thoroughly  matured,  brilliantly  constructed,  and  convincingly 
told.  —  London  Times 

It  is  rare  that  so  much  knowledge  of  the  world,  taken  as  a  whole, 
is  set  between  two  covers  of  a  novel.  —  Chicago  Daily  News 

Anna  the  Adventuress 

A  surprising  tale  of  London  life,  with  a  most  engaging  heroine. 

The  consequences  of  a  bold  deception  Mr.  Oppenheim  has  unfolded 
to  us  with  remarkable  ingenuity.  The  story  sparkles  with 
brilliant  conversation  and  strong  situations.      — St.  Louis  Republic 

Mysterious  Mr.  Sabin 

An  ingenious  story  of  a  bold  international  intrigue  with 
irresistibly  fascinating  "  villain." 

Intensely  readable  for  its  dramatic  force,  its  absolute  originality, 
and  the  strength  of  the  men  and  women  who  fill  its  pages. 

—  Pittsburg  Times 

The  Yellow  Crayon 

Containing  the  exciting  experiences  of  Mr.  Sabin,  one  of 
Mr.  Oppenheim's  most  fascinating  characters,  with  a 
powerful  secret  society. 

The  story  of  a  clever  and  cool  man  fighting  single-handed  the 
most  powerful  organization  on  earth  is  dramatically  and  ingen- 
iously unfolded.     This  stirring  story  shows  unusual  originality. 

—  New  York  Times 

The  Master  Mummer 

The  strange  romance  of  Isobel  de  Sorrens  and  the  part  a 
mysterious  actor  played  in  her  life. 

Fair  Isobel's  fantastic  history  as  set  down  by  Mr.  Oppenheim's 
magic  pen  is  first  of  all  a  love  tale  ;  it  is  laden  with  adventure 
and  intrigue,  with  a  saving  grace  of  humor. 

—  Philadelphia  North  American 

^BO=.         i   ■  i  ■     ■  i  ■         .  ii  ii  I  ■     t  :      a 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  COMPANY,  Publishers,  BOSTON 


E.  PHILLIPS  OPPENHEIM'S  NOVELS 

Illustrated.     Cloth.     $1.50  Each 


A  Maker  of  History 


A  capital    story  that  "  explains "  the    Russian    Baltic  fleet's 
attack  on  the  North  Sea  fishing  fleet. 

An  enthralling  tale,  with  a  surprisingly  well-sustained  mystery, 
and  a  series  of  plots,  counterplots,  and  well-managed  climaxes. 

—  Brooklyn  Times 


The  Malefactor 


An  amazing  story  of  the  strange  revenge  of  Sir  Wingrave 
Seton,  who  suffered  imprisonment  for  a  crime  he  did  not 
commit. 

Spirited,  aggressive,  vigorous,  mysterious,  and,  best  of  all,  well 
told.  — Boston  Transcript 

A  Millionaire  of  Yesterday 

A  gripping  story  of  a  West  African  miner  who  clears  his 
name  of  a  great  stain. 

A  thrilling  story  throughout.  The  author  grips  the  reader's  at- 
tention at  the  outset  by  his  vivid  picture  of  two  men  in  the  West 
African  bush  making  a  grim  fight  for  life  and  fortune. 

—  Philadelphia  Press 

The  Man  and  His  Kingdom 

An  intensely  dramatic  tale  of  love,  intrigue,  and  adventure  in 
a  South  American  state. 

A  daring  bit  of  fiction,  full  of  vigorous  life  and  unflagging  interest. 

—  Chicago  Tribunt 
It  has  lots  of  dash  and  plenty  of  romance  of  the  right  sort. 

—  Cleveland  Leadei 


The  Betrayal 


An  enthralling  story  of  treachery  of  state  secrets  in  high  diplo- 
matic circles  of  England. 

The  denouement  is  almost  as  surprising  as  the  mystery  is  baffling 

—  Public  Opinion 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  COMPANY,  Publishers,  BOSTON 


E.  PHILLIPS  OPPENHEIM'S  NOVELS 

Illustrated.     Cloth.     $1.50  Each 

A  Lost  Leader 

Weaves  a  realistic  romance  around  a  striking  personality. 

The  hero  is  magnificent.  —  New  York  Herald 

Mr.  Oppenheim  is  one  of  the  few  writers  who  can  make  a  political 
novel  as  interesting  as  a  good  detective  story. 

—  The  Independent,  New  York 

The  Great  Secret 

Deals  with  a  stupendous  international  conspiracy. 

A  clever  and  exciting  story  of  international  political  intrigue. 

—  Chicago  Inter-Ocean 
Founded  on  a  daring  invention  and  daringly  carried  out 

—  The  Boston  Globe 

Enoch  Strone :  A  Master  of  Men 

The  story  of  a  masterful  self-made  man  who  made  a  foolish 
marriage  early  in  life. 

In  no  other  novel  has  Mr.  Oppenheim  created  such  life-like 
characters  or  handled  his  plot  with  such  admirable  force  and 
restraint  — Baltimore  American 


A  Sleeping-  Memory 


The  remarkable  tale  of  an  unhappy  girl  who  consented  to  be 
deprived  of  her  memory,  with  unlooked-for  consequences. 

He  deals  with  the  curious  and  unexpected,  and  displays  all  the 
qualities  which  made  him  famous.        —  St.  Louis  Globe-Democrat 

The  Traitors 

A   capital    story   of   love,   adventure,   and   Russian   political 
intrigue  in  a  small  Balkan  state. 

A  virile,  strenuous  tale.  —  New  York  Herald 

Swift-moving  and  exciting.     The  love  episodes  have  freshness 
and  charm.  —  Minneapolis  Tribune 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  COMPANY,  Publishers,  BOSTON 


OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Leturn  tadesk  from  which  borrowed. 
^  This  book  fs'DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


>  -             

'      Aprij5  2Li 

REC  O  LD 

MAR  2  ™  1962 

40  " 

DEC  1  5  1S69     7 
)  DEC15'69  -11  PI 

11 

APR  1  8 1955       ! 

)ue  end  of  FALL  Quarter 
subject  to  recall   after  — 

JCT2  9  71   61 

28Aug'58JT 

REC'D  U)   OCTii 

I71-12PM6  1 

AUG  14  1958 

NOV  1 1 1982 

HEC.  (5(8.   0C1  2 

. 

R$e"0%> 

SEtfTONIU 

DEC  5  -  1961 

JUL  A  *»  t998 

15Mar'62DT( 

U.C.  BERKELEY 

LD  21-95m-ll,'50(2877sl6)476 


0055557=175 


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